


Valerian

by Alexander_L



Series: The Shadow War [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blue Lions Ferdinand von Aegir, Brief appearances from Claude Petra Ashe Linhardt and Ingrid, M/M, POV Felix Hugo Fraldarius, POV Ferdinand von Aegir, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Those Who Slither in the Dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 106,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23496094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexander_L/pseuds/Alexander_L
Summary: A sequel toNightshadein which Sylvix hunt down a serial killer,Valeriancontinues the post-war Blue Lions story as they go on a quest to find Hubert, hoping that he's still alive so they can gain information from him about Those Who Slither in the Dark and find a way to defeat them. Yet the deeper they stray into these dark matters, the more disturbing things they find.Having finally settled down with his new husband Sylvain, Felix is less-than-thrilled about going on this mission to find Hubert. But when he and Sylvain find a victim of TWSitD who desperately needs their help, he is glad he chose to go.When Enbarr fell and Ferdinand failed to save Hubert, he thought he would never see him again. But now that there is the possibility he might, he's afraid that the Hubert he finds might be unrecognizable from the one he knew. But a noble spirit does not give in to fear and Ferdinand won't let anything stop him from rescuing the man he loved and lost.Rated E for: violence, sex and profanity. There is also content revolving around PTSD, panic attacks, mania and hallucinations.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Series: The Shadow War [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708492
Comments: 158
Kudos: 100





	1. Summons to Fhirdiad

**Author's Note:**

> A quick summary of the prequel for anyone who didn't read it (it's not necessary to read Valerian):
> 
> \- Felix is struggling to adapt to peacetime  
> \- Sylvain comes to visit right as a serial killer starts plaguing Fraldarius territory  
> \- They hunt down the killer  
> \- In the process they admit their feelings for each other and get together  
> \- The killer fights with this hallucinogenic poison that brings out the fears and violence in people  
> \- It turns out the killer was being used by TWSitD to test a biological weapon  
> \- Dimitri vows to find out more about TWSitD but no one can find much info on them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life for Duke Fraldarius and Margrave Gautier mostly consists of paperwork and responsibilities, yet these past six months have been the happiest of Felix's life. When they receive the letter from Dimitri that he has been waiting for with dread every day, Felix knows that their short-lived peace has come to an end and whatever lies ahead for them, it just might be darker and more dangerous than what lay behind.

## 1 – Summons to Fhirdiad

###  **Wyvern Moon, 1188**

###  **Felix**

Fuck paperwork. Fuck everything about it and every single damn reason for its existence.

Slapping down the last page and angrily scrawling my signature across it, I jump up from the desk and flee the study that Sylvain has set aside for my use when I’m staying at Gautier manor. I run down the halls towards the bedroom, silently grousing about the fact it’s half past midnight and I am only now getting done with all the fucking paperwork.

I burst into the bedroom without knocking and Sylvain glances up at me with a startled look. He is lying in bed reading a hefty ledger of some kind, his glasses slipped down to the end of his nose. 

“Hey there,” he says with a tired smile.

I leap into bed, dive under the covers, and grab him so forcefully he drops the ledger and yelps. 

“Fee!” he complains. “Your hands are like ice!”

“Yeah well it’s too cold in this drafty old house.”

I twist around and plant my feet against his warm back, causing him to howl. “FEE!”

Laughing wickedly, I fight back as he attempts to wrestle me off of him. When it comes down to brute strength, I don’t stand a chance against him, but I at least manage to warm up my freezing hands and feet enough before he subdues me by rolling me up tightly into a blanket then sitting on me.

“Damn your icy death feet,” he says. “Please just wear some socks and shoes! It’s winter!”

“I have to be barefoot if I want to be stealthy. These old wood floors are too creaky,” I protest.

“Why do you need to be stealthy?”

“Every time Doris catches me, she lectures me about being too skinny and guilts me into eating her cooking. I’m sick of it.”

Sylvain laughs and gets off of me, lying back down on the bed. “Yeah. She’s such a bad cook. You are getting skinny, though.”

I struggle my way out of my prison of blankets and say, “I know you can’t let her go because she’s been in your employ for decades and practically raised you and all that, but can you at least persuade her to retire and hire a new cook? If I’m to be forced to give up the comfort of Fraldarius manor every other month to stay here with you, I demand recompense.”

“Fine, go hire someone then. I’m busy,” he says, picking up the ledger again.

“Oh no you don’t,” I say, snatching it from him and flinging it across the room where it knocks into something that causes a small crash. Sylvain tries to get up to investigate what I just broke, but I yank him back down onto the sheets and pounce on him.

“I swear to Seiros, I will burn whatever paperwork you try to touch right now,” I say, taking his glasses off and setting them on the nightstand. “You are done for the night. And so am I.”

He tries to argue but I stop him with a kiss and it only takes about ten seconds of having my hips grind against his and my tongue in his mouth for him to give in completely. Picking me up and throwing me down onto my back against the pillows, he rips off his shirt and gets on top of me, kissing me passionately.

“You’re so easy to persuade,” I snicker.

“At least I don’t get turned on by paperwork and have to immediately go make love to my husband the moment I’m done.”

“Fiancé,” I correct him. “I haven’t agreed to marry you yet.”

“That’s what a fucking fiancé is, you-”

“Also, I’m not turned on by paperwork! I just hate it and have to blow off steam the minute it’s over with.”

“Would you hate it less if I came into your office every so often during the day and fucked you senseless on your desk?” he asks, working determinedly on unbuttoning the many layers I’m wearing.

I slip my hand between his legs and massage his dick, feeling it already starting to grow hard. I guess he certainly likes the idea of disrupting my work day like that.

“You can if you want. I won’t stop you,” I say, smiling teasingly up at him.

He growls in frustration. “Get out of these clothes.”

“All these months and you can’t figure it out yourself?” I say, undoing the buttons and buckles easily.

“It’s the belts. Why do you need so many belts? What is the actual function of this little one around your thigh, huh?”

“Its function is to be aesthetically pleasing,” I answer, “and to draw attention to my very fine legs.”

“‘Aesthetically pleasing,’” Sylvain scoffs. “Just take it off already!”

“I am!”

Finally all of our clothes lie in piles around the bed and Sylvain is holding me close, his hands running across my body as he kisses me eagerly. With a contented hum, I enjoy the incredible warmth of his skin and the feeling of being in his arms that I have craved all day.

Long and luxurious hours of sex are for weekends, not one in the morning on a weekday night. So without any hesitance or shame, I push him off of me after little more than five minutes and move on from foreplay. Normally I would tease him, draw it out, torment him a bit because the longer I make him wait, the more he loves it.

He swears and groans when I start going down on him, and I promise myself that this weekend, or maybe just in the morning when I’m not so damn exhausted, I will make him actually work for it.

Months of being together and an absolutely ungodly amount of practice have taught me exactly what to do with my lips and tongue to drive him wild and in minutes I have him completely unraveled into a heedless, moaning mess. I have to grab his hips to hold him still as he moves them unconsciously, his body shuddering and bucking with every wave of pleasure.

Then I hear his breathless curses escalate from _“oh fuck”_ to somewhat incoherent words among which I hear him gasping my name. Good Seiros, he never shuts up when he’s enjoying himself, does he? I love it. But we are never going to be able to live in a house with thin walls.

His body stiffens and I fuck him harder as he comes until the orgasm has run its course and he slumps back, panting for breath.

Wiping my mouth on the back of my hand, I reach over and grab his half-empty glass of wine sitting on the nightstand. I toss back the remnants of the heady red blend in one gulp while Sylvain watches me with an appalled expression.

“It’s not a shot of whiskey!” he says. “That shit is imported all the way from Almyra. How dare you waste it like that!”

“I’m sure Claude will keep sending you crates of it so long as you keep pouring Gautier gold into his political schemes and campaigns.”

“I can’t think of a better use of Gautier gold than supporting his work, especially if I am rewarded with this good wine.”

I reach for the bottle to pour another glass but Sylvain takes it from me and says, “No. You don’t get to drink this, you tasteless savage. Someone who can’t tell the difference between shoe polish and vodka certainly doesn’t deserve high-quality wines.”

“It’s not my fault it was in the liquor cabinet that one time,” I grumble resentfully at him as I cuddle into his arms and press a few kisses on his neck. “I love you,” I murmur.

“You’re going to love me a little more in a minute,” he says with his best seductive smile. As he kisses his way down my body, I lean back and sigh happily. Once he is distracted by fucking me, I reach over and pick up the wine, taking a sip directly from the bottle. He’s right. It’s good shit.

But after a moment, I have to set the bottle down because I can’t focus on anything other than him. 

“Oh god- fuck… just like that! Aah… fuck!”

I find myself gasping and whimpering the disjointed words and realize that I am as bad as him these days. 

He feels me growing close and slows down, sucking playfully at the head of my dick and stroking his tongue slowly up and down the shaft all while staring at me with teasing eyes.

“That’s just not fair,” I complain.

“I don’t play fair,” he says quickly before returning to what he was doing.

I swear to the goddess, he draws it out for a fucking eternity until finally - _finally_ \- he stops messing with me and fucks me in earnest again. I come soon after and we snuggle under the covers together, out of breath, exhausted and too happy to speak.

I bask in the warm, intimate silence for a while until Sylvain murmurs sleepily, “Did you steal more of my wine?”

“Of course not. It tastes like shoe polish.”

“Hm. Okay. G’night, Fee.”

“Goodnight.”

“Wait. You did steal it! There’s some spilled on my pillow.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Asshole.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah yeah.”

* * *

I awake to a cold bed and mumble incoherent complaints, fumbling around for Sylvain so he can thaw out my frozen hands and feet. But his side of the bed is empty and cold too.

An instinctive stab of panic strikes me and I bolt up, blinking away the sleep from my eyes and scanning the room for any signs of danger. I relax when I see him perched on the window seat, reading a long letter with a frown.

“What is it?” I ask.

“You’re awake,” he says, glancing over at me, his grim expression not easing. He takes off his glasses and sets them aside along with the letter. “It’s from Dimitri,” he says.

“What does he want?”

“He wants us to come to Fhirdiad.”

I could ask why but I have a horrible feeling I know already. “He’s found a lead.” 

Sylvain nods. “All he says is that they have found someone who can help locate _them_ but he can’t put the information in a letter.”

We knew this was coming. In fact, it’s surprising it’s taken this long. It has been six months, after all. We’d gone to Fhirdiad a couple times to talk with Dimitri and stay up-to-date on his investigations, but every lead he and Byleth chased came up dry and even Hamish Morcliff proved relatively useless when he died in jail of some damn kind of illness only a month after his capture.

Every day I knew we could get this letter but each day that we didn’t I had started to hope that maybe we were wrong about what we had uncovered this spring and that our world was not facing the kind of danger we feared it was. I had begun to selfishly hope that I could have more time with Sylvain before we had to stare down death again.

“I’ll go get dressed,” I say numbly, climbing out of bed. “Have the horses saddled. We can set out in half an hour and eat on the road.”

“Wait,” Sylvain says, catching my arm before I can leave the room. “Come here.”

“We need to hurry.”

“I know. But I have something for you.”

I give him a questioning look and he goes over to my weapons chest in the corner and starts unpacking it, neatly stacking every sword, knife and dagger on the table.

“What are you doing? I’m not taking all of those with me. Just the-” I start to say but pause abruptly when he fishes out the small box stashed away at the bottom of it that I didn’t think he knew about.

He comes back over and hands it to me with an urgent look on his face.

“You said you had something for me. This isn’t for me. It’s-”

“For me. I know. But I’m not leaving here without that ring on my finger so get on with it. We don’t have much time,” he says.

“How did you even know I had this?”

“Because technically we got engaged last month after I asked you and you said with typical Felix eloquence 'sure.'”

“I know, but we said no rings and we didn’t make any actual plans,” I say.

“And yet you still bought me one and were cute enough to think you could keep it secret.”

I open the box and take out the ring, studying it for a second anxiously. I tried to choose a good one for Sylvain, but I don’t know what’s fashionable or elegant or befitting of a man in his position. I just chose something I thought was beautiful. Now that I see the simple silver band with the little emerald set in it, I wonder if it’s too simple, if he deserves better.

“Why are we doing this now?” I ask him. “I had this whole thing planned where I was going to…” I trail off when I see the answer to my question in his eyes.

Because we have no idea what we are walking into. It could be a single battle or an assassination mission or it could be a desperate fight for survival larger and bloodier even than the imperial war. We have no idea what the future holds anymore. We can’t afford to wait for the perfect moment.

“Give me your hand,” I tell him.

Sylvain obeys and I slip the ring onto his finger. Feeling guilty at the unceremoniousness of the whole thing, I hold his hand in both of mine and raise it to my lips to kiss it. “There,” I say softly. “You’re Sylvain Fraldarius now - not legally or officially in any kind of way, of course. But you are to me.”

He stares back at me wordlessly, his big brown eyes warm and bright with emotion he doesn’t seem to know how to express. Then he looks down at the ring and says, “I knew there was a ring in that box but I didn’t know what it looked like. You chose a beautiful one.”

“Does it suit you?” I ask nervously.

“It’s perfect. Now hang on.”

He hurries over to his desk and comes back with a small pouch.

“Sylvain, I told you-”

“No rings,” he says. “I know. They fuck with the balance of a sword hilt. You don’t like the way they feel and so on and so forth. I didn’t get you a ring.”

He unties the bag and pulls out a simple silver wrist band, hardly thicker than a ring and not adorned with any kind of stones or carving. It looks more like armor than jewelry. I hold out my hand and he puts it around my wrist, snapping the clasp shut. 

“I read somewhere this is what warriors in the old days wore,” he says.

“It reminds me of a handcuff,” I say.

“Shit, I didn’t think of that.” 

He looks at me worriedly but I smile at him and say, “Thank you. I like this much better than a ring.”

He smiles back and pulls me close to kiss me. “I don’t need vows or ceremonies or official documents of any kind. I just need to know I’m yours and you are mine,” he whispers.

“You should already know that.”

“Sometimes when it feels too lucky to be real, I forget,” he says. “Now I can’t doubt it anymore.”

“And now the whole world will know when I show off my fancy wedding handcuff,” I reply.

“You know what? Maybe I’ll get you something else,” he says, reaching for my wrist.

I yank it away and glare at him. “You try to take this thing off me and I’ll bite your fingers off. You gave it to me fair and square and you can’t have it back.”

“Seriously. It was a silly idea. I’ll just get you a ring and you can wear it on a necklace or something. Just let me-” 

He reaches for the band again but I hold my hand behind my back and say, “Stop it! It’s mine now and I’m not taking it off! I will live and die with this wedding cuff on my wrist, alright?”

I smirk at him for a moment longer then turn away and walk to the door. “I need to pack. I’ll see you in the courtyard in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll get that cuff of you!” he calls after me.

“Go ahead and try!”

When I meet Sylvain in the courtyard, he is holding the reins to both of our horses and tapping his foot impatiently. But when he sees me, he smiles. I give him a kiss before climbing up into the saddle then without further ado we set out on the road.

“I’m going to have everyone call us ‘Duke and Margrave Fraldarius’ now,” he says.

“Now isn’t the time to be making a fuss about things. Just leave all that until this is over.”

“Absolutely not. If anyone so much as whispers the name ‘Sylvain Gautier’ around me, I’m going to throw fists.”

“We’re not married,” I tell him. “Not legally.”

“I don’t care. I’m yours and you are mine. Nothing else matters.”

I watch him as he holds his hand up and admires the ring in the early morning sunlight, a faint smile lingering on his lips. 

I’m glad I bought that ring, even though I didn’t intend to at first. Sylvain is always the one who brings joy to me during frightening and challenging times. Now I’ve given him something to hold onto amidst whatever darkness lies ahead of us.


	2. Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dimitri summons him with a cryptic message implying that Hubert is still alive, Ferdinand rushes to Fhirdiad to find out the truth.

##  **2 - Him**

###  **Ferdinand**

_‘We have found him. He is alive. Come to Fhirdiad at once.’_

Him. That is all the letter from Dimitri said and every time I read it I can hardly even fill in the name in my thoughts. It is too much. Too soon and yet a hundred years too late.

Him.

It cannot be. It simply cannot. He died in Enbarr. I watched him die, watched Byleth trade spells with him back and forth and back and forth until both of them were battered and bloody, their skill all but equally matched. Then when their magic was nearly exhausted, she had finally plunged her sword into his heart. I watched as the blood had trickled from his mouth to stain his pale skin. I had dropped my lance and tried to run towards him only to be held back by Sylvain.

He said she had fought him so that I would not have to, that she had taken on the pain and guilt of killing an old friend so that none of the rest of us would have to bear that burden.

I had hated Byleth for it, only to have that hatred turn to relief and then to gratitude and acceptance over the years. 

But I had watched him die nonetheless and been powerless to save him. All my pleas for him to cause Edelgard to reconsider launching her attack on Fódlan had fallen on deaf ears, and after the war had started all my desperate attempts to reason with him had been rebuffed at first with disdain and in the end with violence.

I had told myself back then he was too far gone, that there was nothing I could do. And I continued to tell myself that over and over until I almost believed it. But as much as it was an attempt to comfort myself it was also a vicious reminder of my own powerlessness. I had not earned Edelgard’s respect enough for her to listen to my counsel. And I had not loved Hubert well enough to give him a reason to leave her. 

But maybe it was foolish of me to think I could overcome the lifetime of indoctrination that kept him shackled unquestioningly to her side. Maybe it was foolish to even try in the first place to love someone who was not free to stand by my side no matter if he loved me in return.

Maybe I could have saved him. Maybe there was nothing I could have done.

Such conflicted thoughts have always been hollowed by their futility. He was dead. But then I received Dimitri’s message and suddenly he wasn’t.

Litha whinnies insistently at me and I stir from my daze to see glitter of city lights on the dark horizon.

“You are right,” I say, stroking her silky neck. “We are almost there. You have travelled fast and far, girl. I appreciate your endurance. Our journey is nearly over now and you can have some well-deserved rest. I hear the stables in the palace of Fhirdiad are very fine. I will see to it that you have the best of accommodations… Yes, I know. It is far too cold here. Should I have a sweater made for you?”

Litha snorts at me and I laugh. “Yes, you would look silly, but you would at least be warm… Alright, stop complaining then! If you are too vain to bundle up then I will just have to leave you in a nice, warm stable in Fhirdiad and hire a shaggy highland pony to stomp around in the snow instead… That is a good point. I would be lonely too if I left you behind. You will have to settle for that sweater then.”

As Litha falls quiet again, I slip back into my thoughts, the lulling rhythm of hoofbeats on the frozen road weaving a sort of contemplative spell on me.

Finally I am saved from the war waging in my mind by the shouts of the Fhirdiad gatekeepers and the fuss they make showing ‘Duke Aegir’ to the palace. Goodness gracious, Dimitri has a lot of security. I suppose it is warranted. He made a lot of enemies in the war and I am sure he has lost count of the amount of attempts on his life they have made. I suppose I have just become used to the quiet simplicity of my country manor.

“My lord, allow me,” a footman says, reaching out and taking Litha’s reins.

“Thank you, but I will see to my horse myself if you will just point me in the direction of the stables,” I reply.

“My lord, a noble such as yourself need not concern yourself with-”

“A noble such as myself takes personal responsibility for the wellbeing of the creatures in his care,” I say. “The stables?”

He gives me a strange look and beckons for me to follow him. Swinging down from the saddle, I follow him on foot, eager to stretch my legs after all these long days of riding. I hardly need to keep a hand on Litha’s reins; she walks alongside me naturally. 

When we reach the stable doors, the man in charge chides the footman for not taking the horse himself and the footman shrugs helplessly and mutters _‘weird country nobles’_ to the man. I glance at Litha and roll my eyes. She snorts back at me in agreement and stamps her foot.

As I lead her to a large, luxurious stall and set to work unsaddling her and brushing the dust of the road from her coat, I force myself to focus on the task at hand. If I keep getting lost in my thoughts I will be in no state to face whatever awaits me in the palace. As it is, I am twitchy with anxiety and my stomach feels ill. It is a good thing I forgot to eat any dinner. I am not sure I could hold it down right now.

Litha nudges my shoulder with her muzzle and I smile, stroking her forehead and whispering, “I will be alright. Don’t worry about me.”

When I am done caring for her, I follow the footman back to the palace doors. As we walk inside, I take a deep breath to steady my nerves, comb my fingers through my wind-tangled hair quickly and stand up straighter. My hands are shaking, so I clasp them together behind my back, hoping that looks somewhat poised and dignified. 

“Duke Ferdinand von Aegir,” a woman announces gravely as I am ushered into the council room. My hands shake even more and I clasp them tighter, clenching my jaw to keep my expression neutral and composed.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that there are only two people waiting inside and neither of them are _him_. I am not ready to see him. Not yet. 

“Ferdie!” Sylvain says with a warm smile, coming over to hug me. “Good to see you, buddy.”

It hurts a bit to be crushed against his armored chest but his welcoming manner comforts me nonetheless. Even after all these years and all the hard work I have done to rebuild imperial territory and work alongside Dimitri, I am never quite sure where I stand with the Faerghus nobility. I suppose that our old friendships are not so easily set aside though, no matter how different our positions are now from what they once were.

“How are you doing, Sylvain?” I ask as he lets go of me.

“I’m married. Have you heard?” he says, holding out his hand to show off a simple but elegant silver ring.

“Congratulations! Who is the unlucky woman?” I ask.

“Me,” Felix says. He has been sitting on the council table ignoring me this whole time but now he slouches off and walks over, eyeing me up and down with that evaluating look of his as if he is sizing up whether or not he can still beat me in a fight. 

Masking my confusion, I smile and say, “What a powerful political alliance. With your houses combined, you will rule half of Faerghus.”

“And father no heirs,” Sylvain says with a grin. “What chaos that will throw things into when we die!”

“Indeed,” I say uncomfortably.

“Dimitri and Byleth are on their way,” Felix tells me.

“You hungry? You’ve probably had a long journey to have made it here so quickly,” Sylvain says.

“No, not at the moment. Thank you,” I reply, looking around the room for no other reason than to avoid Sylvain’s friendly smile and Felix’s scrutinizing glare. My heart is starting to pound with panic and I have to restrain the despicably cowardly impulse to run out of the room.

I swallow nervously and stand my ground. I am going to face this calmly, with a level-head and brave heart. 

“Ferdie,” Sylvain says, forcing me to look back at him. “What did Dimitri tell you?”

I reach into my pocket and take the crumbled, weather-worn note and hand it to him. “This is it.”

“Do you know who he is referring to?”

“I believe I do, though I don’t understand how it could be possible.”

“None of us know. We have our theories, but we have not gotten much information as to where he has been these past two years and why he has returned now. He says he is waiting until you are here to speak. He wants your help apparently.”

“And is he-” I clear my throat so my voice sounds less shaky. “Is he in good health?”

He… Him… I still cannot say the name, can I? It doesn’t feel real. It will not until I see his face and hear his voice and have the proof of my physical senses that he is alive and this is not some kind of cruel trick or plot.

“Apparently. I haven’t seen him yet. He’s been keeping to himself,” Sylvain says.

Footsteps come from the hall and I jump, then admonish myself sternly until I have my nerves under control again.

Dimitri and Byleth enter and I exchange greetings with them automatically without barely hearing a word that is said. 

He is not here. Where is he? Do they have him locked up in some prison cell? Is he being dragged here in chains? Where is he? Did they lie to me? Is this all some kind of-

“Ferdinand,” Byleth says, yanking me out of my distracted thoughts. “Thank you for traveling all this way. We have grave matters to discuss.”

“So I had assumed,” I reply, walking with her over to the council table where the others are gathered.

“I’ve written as much as I dared in my letters,” Byleth says. “I trust that you’re up to date with what happened to Felix and Sylvain earlier this year and with the measures we’ve taken to learn more of this cult ever since. Now that we have-”

Footsteps!

I jerk around to face the door and hold my breath as it opens. 

“Hubert,” Dimitri says warily. “Thank you for joining us.”

I drown in a storm of chaotic, half-coherent thoughts for an instant as he walks stiffly towards us, surrounded by a handful of guards. Then my mind clears enough that I can see him, really see him. Him. Standing here, alive - tall, skinny and strong as ever, pale but not sickly, his face grim but not hard with hatred as it was when we fought him in Enbarr. He is calm, withdrawn, in control. He is himself.

His eyes meet mine and I stare back at him wordlessly, certain that my face is betraying every single rioting emotion in my heart as plain as day. But I am powerless to keep them hidden as he steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Ferdinand,” he says, his voice quiet and husky with emotion. “You came.”

I open my mouth to speak but I have no words. I have nothing but this pulse-pounding, stomach-wrenching fear that if I look too deeply into those eyes I will find hatred or disdain or deception, because right now all I can see is relief. Is he truly glad to see me? Surely it cannot be as simple as that. Too much has happened. Too many cruel things have been said between us for him to still look at me like that.

“You are alive after all,” I finally manage to say. 

He nods. “I am hard to kill.”

“Why did you come back?” I ask.

“Because there are larger things at stake than my pride,” he answers. “And because-” His voice catches and his jaw clenches with the effort to restrain his emotion.

I take a step closer. I should not approach him. I should not show too much familiarity, not without an explanation for what is going on.

I take another step. I don’t seem to be in control of myself.

Another step. Two. Then suddenly I find myself closing the rest of the distance between us and throwing my arms around him, holding onto him as tight as I can just to reassure myself that he is not some kind of illusion.

He stiffens for a second, then to my astonishment, I feel his arms slip around my waist and his head lower to rest on my shoulder.

“Because I wanted to see you again,” he whispers so quietly only I can hear him. Then he lets go of me and steps out of my arms abruptly, looking over at Dimitri and Byleth. “Give me a moment alone with him.”

“Ferdinand-” Byleth warns but I nod reassuringly at her. 

They think that he is here to kill me. Maybe they are right. How the hell would I know? I am a fool right now, an absolute fool. But I don’t care.

“Please,” I say.

“Very well,” she replies.

With suspicious frowns, Dimitri, Byleth, Sylvain and Felix withdraw, beckoning for the guards to accompany them. 

“What did you want to speak with me about? Why did you have them send for me?” I ask him once we are alone.

“Because I swore to myself that as soon as I escaped, I would come find you,” he says. There is a strained gruffness in his voice as if he is fighting to keep his tone measured and calm. His expression remains locked in its grim frown, but his eyes search mine intently, urgently almost. “I was their prisoner for two years and it gave me time to think… about the choices I’ve made, about the people I’ve lost and betrayed. It made me realize-” He breaks off and struggles for words for a second. Then with a frustrated sigh, he stumbles forward and grabs my face in his hands, kissing me so deeply and intently it catches me off balance.

My head spins and I barely process the feeling of his lips on mine. How is this happening? How can he be here, not hating me but instead wanting me, missing me, loving me? It does not make sense! It cannot possibly be true! It cannot. It is too good to be true. Our cruel world does not allow for people like he and I, who have made so many mistakes, caused each other so much pain and failed so deeply, to find each other again and by some miracle to still love each other. It is not possible.

He tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his hands slipping into my hair, and my panic and confusion give way to a relief so intense my heart aches. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kiss him back with everything I have.

He pulls back too soon; I want so much more. But I force myself to regain some level of composure and lift my eyes to meet his.

“I love you,” he says. “And I need your help. Those who would see our world burned to the ground are gathering to attack us and we have to stop them. We’ll need every soldier in Fódlan to make one last stand against them if we are to win and survive. I need your help convincing Dimitri to trust me and lend me his aid. Please. Will you help me? I can’t do this without you.”

An instinctive apprehension tugs at the back of my mind, poisoning my relief with a sliver of unease, but it is difficult to focus on it enough to understand why I feel it. I cannot do anything but stare spell-bound into those beautiful pale green eyes, so full of sincerity and love the way they used to be in private, stolen moments between us when we were young. 

Before I can reply, he takes my face gently in his gloved hands and kisses me again.


	3. Fódlan’s Last Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those Who Slither in the Dark are coming out of the shadows to launch their attack on humanity and it will take every soldier in Fódlan to fight them if there is any chance of winning.

##  3 - Fódlan’s Last Stand

###  **Felix**

“Why exactly are sitting around out here while they plot?” I ask.

“Because they are either making out or murdering each other and both acts deserve some privacy,” Sylvain says.

“I don’t hear any screams,” Byleth says. “That’s a good sign.”

“Great. That means making out,” I grumble. “Screw this. I don’t think we should trust that snake enough to leave him alone with Ferdinand. We can’t have him swaying Ferdinand over to his side.”

“What side?” Dimitri says. “The war is over, Felix. Now that the empire has fallen, Hubert has no side anymore. I do not think we are his enemy. Those Who Slither in the Dark are. If what happened to Edelgard truly was the work of those demons, then Hubert bears them even more hatred than we do.”

I wait another minute then mutter a curse under my breath and yank the door open, walking back inside the council room with the others following me. Thankfully, Ferdinand and The Snake are not making out. They are talking in worried voices and there is a stunned look on Ferdinand’s face.

“Your highness, Hubert brings us some troubling news,” he says to Dimitri.

“Oh?” I ask. “Is it the fact he came back from the dead somehow? Because that’s pretty fucking troubling.”

Sylvain elbows me in the ribs and whispers, “Not right now!” in my ear.

“You have learned of the existence of the cult that calls themselves ‘Those Who Slither in the Dark,’” Hubert says calmly, ignoring me. “But you have only seen a fraction of what they are capable of. What you do not know is the full extent to which they have been behind every grievous act of bloodshed in our lifetimes, and the true threat of what they are planning.”

“And you do?” Dimitri says. “How?”

“I have been their prisoner since Enbarr fell. I have endured things you cannot imagine and I have learned of the terrifying scope of their power.”

“And how did you escape?”

“With great difficulty,” he replies.

“I would like a less evasive answer,” Dimitri says.

“Then you will get one. At the moment we have more important things to discuss. The Agarthans - yes, that is their real name - are intending to launch a full scale attack on Fódlan. They believe the land belongs to them and they intend to take it back.”

“They intend to wipe us out and rebuild the land ‘once the heaps of our corpses rot into the ground and the rivers of our blood dry into the dirt,’” Sylvain quotes. “Yes, I know. I remember the demon’s words clear as day. They are hard to forget.”

“How dramatic,” Hubert says. “But yes. They are going to attack Fhirdiad and your current forces will be nothing compared to theirs. It is not enough that you simply hold the city against their siege. You must annihilate their army. Otherwise they will keep returning until they get what they want.”

“How many troops do they have?” Byleth asks.

“It is not their number so much as their power. A single Agarthan could wipe out a battalion with the weapons they now have at their disposal. They have been experimenting and honing them for decades. A thousand soldiers will be nothing. A hundred thousand too. You will need the full force of Fódlan. If we do not stop them decisively now, their violence will spread to all other countries as well. Almyra, Duscur, Sreng, Brigid… none of them are safe. It would do well for you to ask for aid from Claude von Riegan and Petra Macneary as well.”

Dimitri and Byleth look at each other with wide eyes and as I glance at Sylvain and Ferdinand, I see horror in their expressions as well.

“We just won a war,” Sylvain murmurs. “And now we have to prepare for an even larger one?”

“You do if you want the people of Fódlan to survive. The Agarthans do not want to kill your soldiers and seize the government. They want to exterminate humankind, down to the last man, woman and child,” Hubert says.

“When do they intend to attack?” Byleth asks.

“I don’t know for sure, but I know it to be soon. We will need to assemble our forces as swiftly as possible if we hope to be ready in time. If we delay for even a moment, it could cost us everything.”

“Our forces? Do you have any army up your sleeve too?” I ask The Snake.

He turns his cold, evaluating eyes on me and says, “Not anymore. But I have my magic still and I will use every last shred of it to defend Fódlan. As much as it sickens me to fight by your side, I am not so petty as to view my hatred for you as more important than our people’s survival. Lady Edelgard and I did not have the chance to stop the Agarthans as we planned and now it must fall on your weak shoulders to do it.”

“Edelgard was working with them,” Dimitri says.

“She was using them to gain understanding of them so she could wipe them out. They slaughtered her family and Lysithea von Cordelia’s family too. It was not just our old classmates who they used. Hundreds of children have been taken from their families for their twisted experiments and hundreds have died because of it. I intend to see to it that no more people suffer the way Lady Edelgard suffered.”

“Your highness,” Ferdinand says, “Dimitri. We have to respond to this seriously. It is too great a risk to not act because of whatever distrust you have of Hubert.”

“Assembling the entirety of our forces is too risky a thing to do on one man’s word,” he replies. “If we pull our troops from other territories, we leave them undefended. It is too risky.”

“Then debate it amongst yourselves and watch your people be massacred because of it,” Hubert says. “I will stay here in Fhirdiad to fight them when they come even if your ineptitude makes it a losing battle. I have no intention of dying knowing that I didn’t do everything in my power to prevent my country from being burned to the ground.”

“There is much more you’re not telling us,” Byleth says. “Before we take any kind of action, we need to know how you got this information and why we should trust you.”

“Then ask your questions but know that every moment you waste brings you closer to death,” he says.

Ferdinand looks beseechingly at Byleth and Dimitri and says, “He has no one left to serve but himself. What kind of ulterior motives could he have? He has no connections, no army, nothing. These fiends took everything from him. It makes sense he would do anything to stop them, even siding with us. Please, listen to him. I believe him and I think the risks of ignoring his counsel far outweigh the possibility that he is lying to us.”

“And what if we centralize our forces in Fhirdiad only to have Those Who Slither in the Dark attack somewhere else that has been left vulnerable?” Dimitri asks.

“There are no other seats of power left in Fódlan anymore,” Ferdinand insists. “What would they have to gain by attacking Derdriu or Enbarr? You have established Fhirdiad as the center of the world. This is the risk of a unified Fódlan; we now have a unified target to attack.”

“One of the reasons Lady Edelgard sought to unify Fódlan under her rule was so that she would have the military authority to launch an effective attack on the Agarthans. But she would have done it immediately after the war before they had time to amass such power,” Hubert says. “There would have been significantly less casualties two years ago. Now it will be a much larger battle. But it still must be fought.”

“I would have you tell us one thing before we start making plans,” Dimitri says. “How did you escape and where were you being held?”

“I was taken from Enbarr and brought back from the brink of death. Their magic is strong and they have powerful healing abilities. I was taken to one of their Faerghus laboratories in the mountains to the south of Kleiman territory. I escaped because I spent two long years studying every single thing I could overhear and witness until I finally found a strategy by which to escape. If you think the fact I’ve resurfaced now is convenient or easy then you can go to hell,” Hubert snarls. “It was far from easy and I endured their torture for years before I had even the faintest opportunity to escape.”

“What did they want from you?” Byleth asks.

“My magic. It is unprecedentedly strong considering I don’t possess a crest. They wanted to understand why so they could use that kind of crestless power to their advantage. They did not succeed, though, which is exactly why they kept trying for so long.”

Ferdinand stares at Hubert with big, heartbroken eyes like a sad puppy. He is eating up every single word The Snake is saying with complete sympathy and trust.

Idiot. It’s beyond me how he ever even became friends with Hubert to begin with, let alone how any kind of romance could have developed between them. But to look at him like that now, after everything he has done… Only a fool forgives that quickly.

“Thank you for telling us this, Hubert,” Byleth says. “We will discuss this matter further amongst ourselves and come to you for more details afterwards.”

“Then I will leave you to it,” he says. “I have no desire to stand here and listen to you pointlessly bicker.”

He turns on his heel and strides away, the guards assigned to keep watch over him falling into step.

Ferdinand hesitates for a minute then turns to Dimitri and says, “Please, promise me you will take what he has said seriously.”

“I assure you, I will. But it is difficult to give that man any kind of trust,” Dimitri replies.

“We’d be idiots to withdraw our troops from other territories. And Claude would be an idiot too to send us aid. He has enough on his hands,” I speak up.

“I actually think Claude would trust Hubert,” Sylvain says. “Believe it or not, they were fairly close as students. He knows Hubert well.”

“Really? They were?” Dimitri asks.

“The three of us used to play poker and argue over battle tactics all the time. I was just there to joke around and take their money, but the two of them got to know each other fairly well. They didn’t trust each other’s personalities, I’m sure. But I think they had faith in each other’s intelligence,” he replies.

“You beat Claude at poker?” I ask in surprise.

“Well, he was, uh, easy to distract,” Sylvain says. I stare at him in shock and he shrugs. “What?”

“Please tell me you didn’t-”

“I didn’t,” he says quickly. “Well, not technically. But one time we-”

“Sylvain,” Dimitri interrupts. “Now is not the time for stories about your romantic escapades.”

“It certainly isn’t. My point is that I think Claude would believe Hubert and I imagine he would want to side with us in this battle. He is too smart to leave Fódlan to burn. If we can’t defeat these demons on our own, then Almyra wouldn’t stand a chance and Brigid wouldn’t last a day either. I think we should at least send word to Claude and Petra of what we’ve learned, even if we say we have our doubts about the truth of it.”

“I agree,” Ferdinand says. “It is our duty to warn them and include them in this war counsel. We are not simply acting off of Hubert’s information. As Sylvain said, Those Who Slither in the Dark have warned us themselves of a coming war. What Hubert has told us only confirms what we already knew was coming.”

I sigh in frustration and say, “As much as it fucking galls me to admit it, Ferdinand has a point. We did know this was coming. I trust Hubert about as far as I can throw him but I also think we should probably err on the side of caution.”

Ferdinand looks slightly taken aback by my language but he nods gratefully for my support.

Byleth glances at him and says, “Do you think you can get more details from him? He seems more inclined to trust you than any of us.”

“I think so. He has been surprisingly honest with me,” Ferdinand replies.

“Then you should go talk to him some more and see what you can find out.”

“Very well,” he says.

As he walks away, Sylvain says, “Be careful, buddy. I know you and he were close but two years can change a person, especially considering what he has gone through. Keep your eyes open.”

“Of course I will. I will not let my bias sway me. I support his advice because it seems wise to me to not disregard such a dire threat, not because I have given him my trust easily. I will see what information I can get from him and report back to you.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri says.

Once Ferdinand is gone, I glance at Sylvain and he looks back at me with a faint, sad smile, twirling the wedding ring on his finger idly. I can see his thoughts as clearly as if they were written across his face.  _ So much for peace _ .

I move over to stand beside him, slipping my hand into his and intertwining our fingers.

“What are we to do with this?” Dimitri wonders aloud, looking at Byleth.

She frowns thoughtfully, staring down at the table. “Prepare for the worst,” she says after a minute. “And find a way to verify Hubert’s claims.”

Dimitri nods grimly and says, “I fear you are right.”

There isn’t a whole lot to be said after that other than to go around in circles about whether we should trust The Snake enough to start preparing for this attack. After an hour of this exhausting back and forth, Sylvain and I give up and go to our room to call it a night, though I doubt it will be easy to sleep with fear like this hanging over our heads.

“Come here,” Sylvain says, settling onto the huge, luxurious bed and patting the sheets beside him.

I tug off my shoes and coat and cuddle up in his arms, tucking my head in the crook of his neck and closing my eyes. I rest one hand on his chest and for several minutes all I do is breathe and focus on the warmth of his presence and the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat under my palm. I have found that this little ritual has a way of calming me like nothing else. And Sylvain knows not to talk or try to kiss me while I am like this. He just waits patiently until my racing thoughts and anxious mind have steadied enough that I can face whatever is overwhelming me.

When I’m ready, I lift my head and look up at him. “So this is it, then.”

“This is it. We’re going to war again,” he says, his voice heavy with sorrow. “What a short-lived peace we had.”

“He could be lying.”

“Yes, he could be. But I don’t think he is. You know what that demon in Sterling’s body said to me. Whether or not Hubert’s right about this attack on Fhirdiad, an attack of some kind is coming.”

He looks so deeply troubled that it pains me even more than my own anxiety. Picking up his hand, I plant a kiss over his ring finger and give him a small smile. “I’ll keep you safe. And you’ll keep me safe, no matter what happens. ‘Until death do us part,’ right? It’s not so different from the promise we made when we were young.”

“I didn’t think of it at the time as a marriage proposal but I suppose in essence it was pretty similar,” he says, smiling back at me. He cups my cheek in his hand and kisses me softly. “I love you, Fee, more than anything. You’re right. We’ll get through this together.”

Too unsettled to sleep, we rest in each other’s arms for quite some time until a frantic knock on the door causes us both to bolt out of bed.

“Whoever it is, go away,” I snap.

“It’s Ferdinand. Please, let me in. It is urgent!”

I huff in frustration and am about to tell him to piss off when Sylvain goes over to the door and opens it, ushering in a distraught Ferdinand.

“Whoah, Ferdie, what happened?” Sylvain asks.

Ferdinand is a mess - an absolute disaster. His hands are trembling violently and his face is streaked with tears. “I need to talk to you. I… It is…”

A muffled sort of sob noise chokes in his throat and he hugs Sylvain. I give Sylvain a look that says  _ ‘what the hell?’ _ and he just shrugs helplessly.

“Hey, talk to me, buddy. What happened?” Sylvain says, putting his arms around him and patting him gently on the back. “Are you alright?”

“They have him,” he gasps. “They still have him. And Seiros knows what they are doing to him there!”

“Who has who?” I ask, walking over and grabbing his shoulder. I yank him out of Sylvain’s arms and give him a shake. “Talk, Ferdinand. What is this about?”

His hysterical manner steadies a bit and he looks into my eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Those Who Slither in the Dark. They have Hubert somewhere. Either he is dead or he is their prisoner and is being tortured and experimented on as we speak.”

“What have you been drinking? Hubert’s right here in Fhirdiad,” I say.

Ferdinand shakes his head. “That is not Hubert. I would stake my life on it. I thought it was at first because my heart wanted it to be. But it is not him. I am sure of it now.”

“How do you know?” Sylvain asks. “It’s true that they can steal people’s appearances but he still talked and sounded exactly like Hubert. How can you be sure? Maybe he’s just changed since you knew him.”

“It is not him!” Ferdinand insists. “Listen to me, when we were young, right before the war, he made a big deal once about us each telling each other something no one else would know. He said that it was to be like a code between us, in case we ever needed to make sure we were who we said we were. I thought he was crazy at the time, but he must have known back then about these people! He must have known they could do this, that someday they might impersonate him or me to try to get to one of us. I went along with him and we each shared our secrets.”

“So you asked him his now and he didn’t remember,” Sylvain says.

Ferdinand nods. “Hubert must have insisted we set that code for a reason. If this… this  _ thing _ does not know that code then it cannot be him! Which means he is still their prisoner! Still being held somewhere and tortured and-”

“We’ll find him,” Sylvain says reassuringly. “I promise you - we’ll find him.”

“Why should we-” I begin to ask but Sylvain cuts me off with a look.

I glance at Ferdinand, reading the pain and terror in his eyes, and my resentment eases a bit. I know what that fear is like. 

“Whatever this bastard is playing at, we might find a clue by finding the real Hubert. It’s worth a try. Let’s go to Dimitri and tell him,” I say.

“I am going to go find Hubert whether Dimitri orders it or not,” Ferdinand says. “I have not lost and found and then lost again the man I love just to give up now. I am going to find him.” 

I study the look of determination in his eyes - fierce, unhesitating, rebellious almost. And for the first time, I wonder if I have underestimated Ferdinand all these years. Because in this moment, he looks a lot like me.


	4. Truth is the Best Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Excerpt:**
> 
> I remember every moment I won another step of trust. I never quite understood what I did to deserve it, but I worked hard to never give him cause to regret it.
> 
> I remember the first time he took off his gloves and the way he clenched his jaw angrily and lowered his eyes so he wouldn’t see the pitying expression he thought I would have. I remember his startled look when I kissed his blackened fingers and placed his palm against my cheek. He had slowly brushed his thumb across my lips and I had told him that I preferred him to touch me like this because his hands were so warm.
> 
> And I remember that morning right before I went with the Blue Lions to handle the crisis in Remire Village where he had pulled me aside with confusing urgency and made me promise to never tell a soul this small, mundane secret because there must be something that I and I alone knew about him. _‘Just in case something about me ever seems off and you need to make sure it is your Hubert you’re talking to, bring up this secret and if I don’t give you the right answer or avoid the subject, then do not trust me. Do you understand? Listen to me! You have to remember this.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These past few chapters are pretty Ferdie-heavy but fear not! After the next chapter, we will get some Sylvix focus for a while. Although POV will trade back and forth, different arcs of the story will center around Ferdibert or Sylvix and the upcoming middle section will be Sylvix heavy.

## 4 – Truth Is the Best Lie

###  **Ferdinand**

Hubert kept his secrets under even tighter lock and key than his emotions. Each time he showed me one, I felt honored. For years he had trusted no one but himself. Even in all his devotion to Edelgard, he still did not share his true thoughts and feelings with her. Only me. 

I loved those moments when we would steal away after a class or a mission to be together for a while in private and I would watch him shed his cold, tight-lipped manner as visibly as if he were taking off a mask.

Then I would see the Hubert that no one else did. The one with eyes that could go from mocking to sincere in a moment. The one whose mouth would crook up into a tiny smile at first when I made a joke then break into a grin as he laughed shyly. He would cover his mouth with his hand when he laughed that hard, as if to muffle the sound because it felt so strange to him. I lived to draw that laugh from him, going to all kinds of ridiculous measures just to hear it.

I came to love both sides of him equally for it was his duality that fascinated me. I was an open book, unable to keep my own secrets, always wearing my emotions on my sleeve and blurting out my thoughts even when I knew they weren’t wanted. But he was controlled to a fault, his words carefully chosen even in anger.

I remember every moment I won another step of trust. I never quite understood what I did to deserve it, but I worked hard to never give him cause to regret it. I remember the first time he showed me something personal - a sketchbook full of his drawings. They were beautiful and detailed but he seemed to think they were terrible and he was a bit ashamed of them. But I loved them. 

I remember the first time he took off his gloves and the way he clenched his jaw angrily and lowered his eyes so he wouldn’t see the pitying expression he thought I would have. I remember his startled look when I kissed his blackened fingers and placed his palm against my cheek. He had slowly brushed his thumb across my lips and I had told him that I preferred him to touch me like this because his hands were so warm.

And I remember that morning right before I went with the Blue Lions to handle the crisis in Remire Village where he had pulled me aside with confusing urgency and made me promise to never tell a soul this small, mundane secret because there must be something that I and I alone knew about him. _‘Just in case something about me ever seems off and you need to make sure it is your Hubert you’re talking to, bring up this secret and if I don’t give you the right answer or avoid the subject, then do not trust me. Do you understand? Listen to me! You have to remember this.’_

I remember how I had brushed it off as his paranoia and yet how that one detail stayed etched into my memory _‘just in case.’_

I am so grateful I still remember and that years of separation and hurt and fury did not cause me to want to forget all those moments with him. Because now I can rescue him.

“It’s too dangerous to go there without any idea of what you’re walking into,” Byleth tells me.

“It is dangerous, but I will not back down. Either I will find him or I will die trying,” I reply. “I came to you for help but not for permission. I will leave in the morning, with or without any aid.”

“You have no idea where to look for him,” she insists.

“We’re going to the Kleiman mountains,” Sylvain says. “The most convincing way to lie is to tell the truth. That demon had his hands full trying to trick the person who knew Hubert best. He wouldn’t have stood a chance outright lying. I think his story about being imprisoned in a lab there and experimented on was true.”

“‘We?’” Dimitri says in surprise. “You want to go with him?”

“Yes. You and Byleth need to stay here to prepare for whatever is coming. You can command Gautier troops in my absence. I’m not a battle strategist. The best way I can help is to find information and I think the real Hubert is our best shot. Even if he isn’t there, we can’t pass up any lead we have on finding more of these Agarthans,” Sylvain replies.

“And you are in agreement on this, Felix?” Dimitri asks.

Felix just nods resentfully.

“Let’s see how much information we can get out of him first,” Byleth says. “Ferdinand, we’ll need your help for that. Does he know you are suspicious of him?”

“I… I don’t think so. I am sure he knows I was trying to get answers from him but I don’t think he has any idea that I know he is not who he says he is,” I reply. “But you cannot ask me to trick him. I am not a good liar. I have always felt it to be an unbefitting trait and have never put much practice into learning it.”

“Tell him you want to avenge him. Ask him to take you to where he was held so you can kill the people who tortured him,” Sylvain suggests.

“What if he knows I am lying?”

“Are you, though?” he asks. “Remember, it’s easy to lie when it’s the truth. You do want to kill whoever imprisoned him. Also, this person obviously knows of you and knows your history with Hubert but that doesn’t mean he knows your personality and your mannerisms that well. You have an advantage on him that he doesn’t have on you. But these Agarthans - they’re cocky. They think we’re all stupid cattle. I’m not so sure he’ll realize he’s being played until it’s too late.”

“He wants us all here in Fhirdiad for some reason. I doubt he will go with us to the laboratory.”

“This is a waste of time!” Felix says. “Let’s just put a blade to his throat and tell him to talk or die.”

“Are you suggesting we torture him for information?” I ask.

“I’m suggesting we scare the shit out of him, not cut off his fingers one by one,” he replies. “But go ahead and try to outwit him instead if you want. We’ll see how well that works.”

“It’s worth trying,” Byleth says. “Go speak with him again, Ferdinand. And if you can’t convince him, then we’ll arrest him and interrogate him.”

“Is there any chance that you are wrong?” Dimitri asks me.

“There is always a possibility that I am wrong. I do not presume to believe my judgment to be perfect at all times. But I feel strongly that this time I am right,” I answer.

“Then go. Try Sylvain’s idea. See what happens,” Byleth says.

I nod and walk away but pause just as I close the door behind me when I hear them saying my name. Although muffled by the door, I can still make out what they are talking about.

“I do think the information we can gain by rescuing the real Hubert is extremely necessary, but I also think that we’d be pretty terrible friends if we left Ferdie to do this alone,” Sylvain says. “I know none of you were ever close with him. But I was, especially during the war. He’s a good man and I really think that if it were me and Felix were being held hostage somewhere, Ferdie would help me rescue him. Even if we weren’t good friends, I think he probably still would. He’s just that kind of guy.”

“Look, I never thought I’d stick my neck out for Ferdinand fucking von Aegir but I agree with Sylvain,” Felix says. “Someone needs to find out what the hell is going on here and neither of you should risk leaving Fhirdiad. So unless you have any other fighters as powerful as Sylvain and I sitting around who can go in our place, it should be us. We have the best shot at success and you know it.”

“It is a dangerous time to be sending my two right-hand men on an ambiguous, risky mission,” Dimitri argues. “But if your heart tells you this is the right thing to do-”

“My heart doesn’t particularly give a shit,” Felix says. “But my head says chasing this lead is better than sitting around waiting for the enemy to strike!”

“Very well. If we can get a better idea of the location of this laboratory, then you will go with Ferdinand,” Dimitri replies.

I exhale the breath I have been holding and turn away, heading towards Hubert’s room. My heart hangs heavily in my chest, weighed down by fear and a cruel, aching disappointment. For one hour I thought I had him back. And like a fool, I fell for the affection he was using to manipulate me.

I should have trusted my instincts and known that he would not forgive me that easily. If Hubert is still alive, I doubt it will be a joyous and loving reunion for us. I doubt he will even want to speak to me, let alone regard me with any measure of forgiveness. But even if the Hubert I find still hates me, he will at least be alive. I can live with the thought of him spending the rest of his life despising me, as long as he is safe.

When I come to Hubert’s room, I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I truly can do this. Then I set aside my doubt and take a deep breath, knocking on the door. “Hubert?”

“Come in,” his voice - its voice - says.

I find him sitting on the bed, leaning up against the headboard with a book in his hands. It makes my whole body feel cold to look at him and see both him and _not him_ at the same time.

It is moments like this that I wish I was still religious just so I could have someone to pray to for strength like I used to when I was a boy. 

“I spoke with Dimitri and Byleth. They are going to send word to Claude and Petra about the coming attack to rally an army,” I tell him.

“Good,” he replies.

I force myself to walk over and sit down beside him, but my damn hands keep shaking. I don’t know what to do with them. I have no idea how to hide my distress. 

“They are going to be cautious and make preparations, but they still don’t believe you. They are coming up with all kinds of preposterous ideas as to how you are still alive. Felix even went so far as to suggest you could be some kind of ghost or imposter. They really are strangely superstitious here in Faerghus. I have done my best to persuade them to believe you. I think that even if they do not trust you, I have convinced them at least to take this coming attack seriously,” I say.

“A ghost?” he says with a scoff. “How absurd.” He looks over at me searchingly and says, “And have you spent enough time in Faerghus to become superstitious too?”

“I have spent as little time in Faerghus as possible,” I reply.

One moment more of those analyzing eyes staring into my soul and I will fall apart. Steeling my nerves and hardening my heart the way I would before a battle, I do the only thing I can think of to break that piercing gaze.

I brush a curl of hair out of his eyes and lean in to press my lips against his. My stomach turns and panic tugs at the corners of my mind, but I kiss him determinedly until I feel his manner relax a bit.

“I can scarcely believe I am lucky enough to have you back. I never thought I would see you again,” I whisper. “You have no idea how I mourned you, how I wished every day I had found a way to reconcile with you. If I could have turned back time, I would have-”

“Let’s not talk of the past. I did not suffer for years and finally manage to escape only to spend the rest of my life alone and hating you. I have learned that life is too bleak and short for that,” he replies.

I pull back a bit and raise my eyes to meet his, confident that now I can show my emotions without fear because this time they are genuine. “There is one thing in the past I do want to face, though. I am going to find the monsters that tortured you and make them pay. I cannot allow them to continue abducting people and I cannot rest until I avenge your suffering. I mean to go now while Dimitri and Byleth prepare for the attack. I will catch them off guard. I have already sent for my soldiers to come to Faerghus and fight under Dimitri’s command. My presence is not needed here.”

A hint of surprise passes across his face. “They will pay for what they did to me by being wiped out by our army on the battlefield.”

I stare at him fiercely and say, “That is not enough. I did not mourn your death for two long years while you suffered in their clutches just to stand by now and do nothing. I intend to go, Hubert. You cannot stop me.”

“Don’t be rash. It would be foolish to leave Fhirdiad right now.”

“Then I will be a fool!” I reply. “I want them dead - specifically the ones who tortured you - not just these demons as a whole. War is pragmatic, but revenge is personal. Please, Hubert. I was helpless to save you. Let me at least avenge your pain. They took you from me. I will make them pay for that.”

“I need you here to help me,” he insists.

“I have done what I can. The rest is up to Dimitri and Byleth.”

“They will hardly listen to me. Not when they seem to think I’m some kind of ghost or trickster,” he says bitterly. “Do they really not heed your advice enough to respect your faith in me?”

When I struggle to think of how to answer, he gives me another scrutinizing look.

“I’m not so sure you actually do trust me,” he says. “Maybe you do believe in ghosts.”

“I don’t know what to believe, but I do want to believe you.”

He frowns thoughtfully then looks away, his jaw clenched in anger. Whatever this thing is, it is a much better actor than I am. The vulnerability in his voice is almost convincing as he says quietly, “If I give you a reason to trust me, will you stay and fight with me instead of chasing foolishly after revenge?”

“What reason?” I ask.

“I…” He falters and this time I can see the hint of fakeness in his portrayal of emotion. “It’s not just the urgency of the moment that makes me loath to let you leave on some risky mission. I… I have spent long enough being separated from you.”

For a second, I almost gag. The gentleness in his voice is so affectionate it makes me sick to sit here and listen to it, to pretend like I believe it to be real. He thinks I am so easy to fool. 

He gets up and walks over to a traveling pack sitting on the desk. From it he withdraws a small, tattered journal and returns to sit beside me.

“When I escaped, I didn’t have the strength to travel immediately. I hid in a small town outside the mountains to recover from my injuries. I truly thought I was going to die there. So I started writing and drawing again like I used to. I told the healer taking care of me to send it to you if I died. It’s sickeningly sentimental, isn’t it? I don’t know why I hung onto it after I recovered,” he says. He places the journal in my hands and says, “I know right now you are confused and you have your doubts. I knew you would. But, as silly as it is, maybe this will be some proof that I mean it when I say that I love you still and that I don’t want you to leave as soon as I’ve finally found you again.”

I open the journal and see that it is filled with notes scrawled in Hubert’s tiny, slanting handwriting and little sketches of random things. They have a similar style to the ones he drew when he was younger, but there seems to be no rhyme or reason as to what they are, just strange patterns and vignettes of landscapes and objects. 

_‘It is so cold in Faerghus. I hope you are not stuck in this godforsaken land somewhere. I hope you are home in Aegir, where you can actually feel sunlight,’_ one of the notes reads.

“Don’t read it in front of me,” he says with a nervous laugh. “Just… just take it. And Ferdinand, please. Don’t go chasing after danger. We have greater things to worry about right now than revenge. I cannot afford to go with you and I can’t bear for you to leave. Maybe if we are still alive after this is over, I will take you to that place and we can burn it to the ground. But until then, I’m not going to give you the information you want, not if it means you will go running off and leave me here.”

The forged journal with its stupid notes and its pointless sketches makes me so furious I know that if I stay here another moment I will not be able to hide it. 

“Then I will stay,” I say. “Goodnight, Hubert.”

It takes all my self-control to even call him by that name. Now that I am looking at him and listening to him without being blinded by his lies, everything about him feels so painfully false. I cannot believe I ever believed him to begin with. How could he think I would be so stupid as to fall for his pretty declarations of love and stupid longing looks?

My anger fades to shame as I realize that I was falling for them, hook, line and sinker. The only thing that saved me from the farce was the foresight Hubert had seven years ago that caused him to exchange that secret with me. If he hadn’t, I would still be drinking up every word this imposter said, starved for his forgiveness and presence enough to be as malleable as soft clay in his hands.

“Come see me in the morning,” he says.

“Of course. Get some rest.”

He catches my arm as I move away and pulls me down for a kiss. I stiffen instinctively but swiftly force one last act of self-control and courage from my panicking heart and kiss him back for a moment.

Then I all but flee his chamber, bolting back to the room where the others are waiting for me.

“What did he say?” Byleth asks.

“Nothing,” I answer, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand furiously, trying to rid all traces of that _thing_ ’s kiss from my lips. 

“He wouldn’t tell you anything of the laboratory?” Sylvain says. “Did you tell him you–”

“Nothing!” I cry, my control and patience reaching their limit and snapping abruptly. “I can’t get anything out of him! I can’t do this! I can’t look in his eyes and not– and act like I– It– it feels so–” I know I am turning hysterical but I cannot control the desperation and anger bursting free of its restraints inside me. “DAMN IT!”

“Ferdie…” Sylvain says. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. Get a hold of yourself.”

“I know. I– I apologize for my language,” I stammer. “Such an outburst is unbecoming for a noble. I am sorry.”

“Language?” Felix says. “You said ‘damn.’ You didn’t tell the goddess to go fuck herself.”

“What is that you’re holding?” Byleth asks.

“This?” I realize I am still clutching the journal in my hands and I throw it on the council room table with a scoff. “Some ridiculous attempt to get me to trust him. As if Hubert would ever be so sentimental as to write me letters and bequeath it to someone to send me if he died. Absolutely ridiculous. He would never leave any trace of his personal feelings in writing where someone could find them.”

Byleth opens up the journal and studies it with a thoughtful frown. “It does look like his handwriting.” I look at her questioningly and she says, “Manuela never got around to grading papers. Rhea would give me stacks of her classwork to do. I have read enough essays by the Black Eagle students that I could recognize all of their handwriting in my sleep even after all this time.”

“Then it is a good forgery,” I say. “These… these dastards will stoop to any level to manipulate us. It is disgusting! We really must just be foolish sheep to them.”

I am straying dangerously close to losing my temper again so I clench my hands into fists in an attempt to whatever shreds of composure I have left together.

“Interrogate him then, if you want. I have done what I can and failed wretchedly. I am sorry,” I say and walk away.


	5. Dark Spikes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come hell or high water, Ferdinand will find Hubert. Filled with determination and anger, he gallops off from Fhirdiad to head towards the Kleiman mountains in search of any lead. But in a patch of woods outside the city he meets with trouble.
> 
> (Here is another chapter of Ferdie angst! Next chapter couple chapters will be Sylvix-centric.)

## 5 – Dark Spikes

###  **Ferdinand**

“Come on, Litha,” I say, hurriedly saddling her even though she whinnies in protest at waking her up from her nap. “I know. We have had no chance to rest. But I cannot stay here and listen to that thing’s twisted words anymore! I just can’t! Let us be going. We can stop for rest in the morning once I have put a few leagues between us and this damned city… Yes, I know. I can’t seem to be able to control my language right now. Please forgive me, girl.”

A sleepy stable hand calls out a question to me but I ignore him, jumping up into the saddle the minute the last buckle is fastened.

I nudge Litha into a trot as we leave the stable and as soon as we are free of the palace courtyard, I urge her into a canter and clatter across the cobblestones towards the western gates.

The night is frigid and harsh and the wind that beats against my skin feels like the lash of a whip. But I am going to the mountains. If I cannot bear a bit of cold then I will be too weak to handle this journey. I must adapt and not let it cause my resolve to falter.

By the time we are on the frost-covered roads outside Fhirdiad, leaving the city lights behind us, I realize with a bit of trepidation how dark it is. There is a bright moon tonight but it is mostly blotted out by the veil of clouds and it is difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. Litha follows the road without me needing to guide her and I trust her to navigate in the dark better than I can. 

But a mile outside the city the road enters a thick copse of trees and within it the air grows still and heavy. Litha slows her pace a bit and tosses her head with a nervous snort.

“What is it, girl?” I whisper.

I scan our surroundings but the scattered panes of moonlight filtering through the trees do little to illuminate the shadows. Litha’s ears prick up and she comes to a halt, her body tense and wary. Taking my lance from the strap on my saddle, I strain my ears to hear any sound of movement. 

A burst of movement makes me jump but it is swiftly followed by a sharp _caw!_ and as the shadow swoops up to be silhouetted against the sky, I realize it was only a crow.

“Is that what was bothering you?” I ask Litha.

But she isn't listening to me. She turns around to face the way we came and huffs nervously. A faint shimmer of magic glows in the darkness for an instant and Litha whinnies sharply. She rears and bolts in the opposite direction and I hang on for dear life, throwing a worried glance over my shoulder to try to see what it was that spooked her.

Light blinds my eyes as a dagger of lightning slices by an inch from my head. Litha dodges to the side and leaps over a thicket of brush, plunging off the trail to try to evade our attacker.

Another flicker of magic and suddenly a shadow materializes in front of us and a fire spell rockets towards me, knocking me from the saddle with the force of the blast. It sears through my armor and burns my skin, but I jump to my feet immediately and grab my lance.

Litha whinnies and turns around to come back for me but a violet cloud of magic rises from the ground around her, forming dark spikes. “No!” I yell. “Run! Run, Litha!”

She leaps out of the spell’s radius but refuses to flee.

“Go! Please!” I cry, knowing that she will not survive if another dark spikes spell catches her. She neighs frantically, then obeys and gallops away.

I face the direction the spell came from and brandish my lance. “Who are you? What do you want with me?”

Another lightning spell flies at me and I dodge it just in time. The split-second of light reveals a figure a few yards away – tall, dark-cloaked, magic burning in his hands.

“Hubert! Why are you attacking me?” I ask.

“Because apparently you aren’t a fool like he said you were,” a voice growls - not Hubert’s voice, although it comes from his lips. “And I can’t have you jeopardizing my mission.”

“What mission? What are you trying to trick us into doing?”

“You won’t have the chance to find out,” he says, throwing another spell at me.

I throw myself out of the way and the blast rockets past, catching the thicket behind me on fire. As the flames grow, their flickering light pulses through the shadows, giving me just enough visibility to see him.

With a yell, I charge at him, narrowly dodging another spell and closing the distance between us. I plant my foot down on a boulder and push myself off it into a leap, bringing my lance crashing down towards him. But he warps away before my strike can do more than graze him. I whirl around and see him behind me. A seething pool of dark magic bubbles up from the ground around me and I try to jump free of it, but one of the tendrils wraps around my ankle and sucks me back in. 

I try to grab hold of something and my scrabbling fingers close on a thick, gnarled tree root. Seizing hold of it, I drag myself free of the spell. Before I can get back on my feet, a lightning spell hits my leg, causing spasms to race through my whole body. 

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I stagger forward. When I see the ephemeral lines of a spell rune in the air, I attack and manage to plunge my lance into the witch’s shoulder while he is still casting it.

He curses and the spell breaks as he warps out of the way. For a moment the forest grows still again and there is only the crackle of flames and the eerie rustle of the trees. 

“Is Hubert even alive?” I shout. “Or was all this a cruel trick?”

A mocking laugh comes from the shadows, but I can’t place from what direction. “Oh he’s alive, for the most part.”

“What have you been doing to him?” I demand.

“All the things I told you,” the voice says and I whirl around to see the witch a stone’s throw away, lit by a violet orb of dark magic. He hurls the spell at me and I evade it clumsily, my leg still stiff with shooting pain from the lightning.

“Even if you were to find him, it wouldn’t do you any good. We have broken him down to the point where I doubt you would even recognize him.” The witch laughs again and says, “Maybe I should have let you find him. Your disappointment would have been amusing.”

Distracted as I am by my anger, I react a second too slow and take another spell. This time it isn’t fire or lightning. It is a strange kind of dark magic that makes it feel like the life is being sapped from my body. It writhes and twists around me, constricting my lungs until I can hardly breathe.

The witch laughs and pours more of his magic into the spell until I choke and fall to my knees, tasting blood in my mouth. My heart pounds with fear and desperation and I fight to get back on my feet, but I can’t breathe.

“You have made everything more complicated for us,” he says, walking over and kicking me down to the ground as I struggle to get up. “You’ll pay for that.”

He kicks my weakened body savagely and I feel one of my ribs fracture. Prying the lance out of my grip, he flips it around and beats me with the butt of it, slamming it into my damaged ribs until a cry of pain breaks from my throat along with a mouthful of blood.

“Pathetic,” he spits. “You’re all so weak. Be grateful I don’t have time to make your death slow.”

He turns the point of the lance towards me and raises it for one final strike. But as he brings it plunging down, I roll to the side and seize the shaft of the lance in my hands, wrenching it out of his grasp. I shove myself up off the ground, ignoring the agonizing strain on my ribs, and whip the lance around, burying it deeply into his gut.

“You made a mistake taking Hubert’s body,” I say through clenched teeth. “Those skinny arms of his are not made for close combat. You should have stuck to magic, you cocky bastard!”

I twist the lance, its serrated head ripping his flesh, and he screams. I throw what strength I have left into the thrust and it cuts through his body, pinning him to the ground. 

“Where is he?” I yell in the witch’s face. “Tell me!”

His face flickers and for a moment I think it is just a trick of the firelight. Then all trace of Hubert’s features slips away, leaving behind a strange, not-quite-human face tattooed with strange designs.

“I’ll die before you get any information out of me,” he says.

“If I rip this lance out of your gut, you will bleed to death swiftly,” I tell him. “But if I keep it buried in your insides, you will die slowly, in agony. Tell me where to find him and I will make your death merciful.”

“I’m not afraid of pain.”

I twist the lance again and he cries out, his body twitching helplessly as he struggles. 

“Tell me where to find him!” I yell.

“Or what? You’ll torture me?” he snarls between gasps of pain. “You humans think you’re so noble and virtuous. You think what we do is vile but when it comes down to it your kind is the same.”

“If we are the same then that means you are just as weak and cowardly as we humans and you are going to break. I have seen the bravest warriors in Fódlan whimper like dogs as they bled to death on the battlefield. You think you are stronger than that?”

He laughs again – a horrible, grating, choked noise that causes blood to trickle from his mouth to stain his corpse-white skin.

“Fuck you,” he growls.

With a shuddering gasp, he raises his hand weakly and a blast of dark magic burns into my chest, throwing me off of him. As I stagger back, I see him grab the shaft of the lance in his shaking hands. With a piteous cry of pain, he wrenches it free and collapses, blood pooling across the frost-covered ground around him.

“No!” I say and lunge back over to him, but it is too late. I do not know any healing spells and no amount of non-magical care can save him now.

As I try to get up, the shock keeping me moving wears off and I feel the full pain of my wounds weighing me down. I slump back to my knees and bow my head, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

What have I done? Now there is no chance to question him!

I clutch my hair in my hands despite the blood and dirt staining them. Did I just ruin our best chance at information? My best chance at finding Hubert?

The sound of hoofbeats causes me to look around and I see Litha trotting over. She comes to stand beside me and nudges my shoulder with her muzzle gently. I put my arms around her neck and let her help pull me to my feet. I slip a bit on the gore-soaked mud and catch hold of the saddle horn to steady myself. Litha nickers encouragingly and I manage to pull myself into the saddle.

She turns back towards Fhirdiad, but I stop her. “There is no point in going back. All I can do is keep on to Kleiman and look for a lead of some kind. There is barely any hope, but I must try anyways. Will you take me there, girl? I can barely ride. Just follow the road out of here. I will just hang on.”

She walks slowly, but still I can barely stay in the saddle. And after less than a half-mile, my body is too aching and weary to push any further. I try to keep going, but when Litha stumbles over a hole in the road, I fall off, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.

I cough and roll onto my back, staring up at the canopy of tree branches above me. Their skeletal boughs ripple in the breeze and I blink, trying to steady my reeling senses. But I am too lightheaded and the more I struggle for clarity, the more the world starts to spin around me until the moonbeams and shadows are distorted shifting patterns and all I can hear is my pulse pounding in my ears.

When I try to stand up, the last of my energy gives out and I collapse back to the ground unconscious.


	6. Hubert's Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain is determined he can solve the puzzle in Hubert's journal. And even if Ferdinand and Felix are skeptical, he is going to keep trying until he figures it out.

## 6 - Hubert’s Puzzle

###  **Felix**

“Over there,” I say, pointing at a horse a ways down the road, its pale body catching the moonlight. 

We ride towards it and as we grow closer, we see a white and gray dappled mare standing beside a body on the ground. I catch a glimpse of ginger hair and realize that it is Ferdinand.

“Shit!” Sylvain swears. “Is he dead?”

“Let’s find out.”

We dismount and walk over but when we get within a few paces of the horse its ears go back and it stomps its foot on the ground with an aggressive snort, baring its teeth at us. 

“Whoa there,” Sylvain says gently. “We’re friends.”

“Why are you talking to the horse? It can’t understand you,” I say.

“She can. Horses are smarter than most people. Stay back,” he replies.

Instead of walking directly towards the mare, Sylvain steps to the side and approaches slowly at an angle, one hand lowered, one hand held out with his palm up. Step-by-step, he grows closer, avoiding eye contact with her and murmuring soft, soothing words.

He stops an arm’s length away and holds out his hand. The mare tosses her mane and shies away a step but Sylvain doesn’t move. Finally she walks back over to him and nuzzles his palm.

“There,” he coos. “I mean him no harm. I’m here to help. Can I touch him?”

She snorts and her ears lift up, which I assume is a friendly gesture because Sylvain smiles at her and nods. “Good girl. You’re a good friend to him. Now let me see if I can heal him.” He glances over and beckons for me to approach.

The mare studies me warily and Sylvain strokes her neck, saying, “It’s alright. He’s a friend too.”

She lets me approach and Sylvain and I kneel down next to Ferdinand. Sylvain brings a small fire spell to his hand and holds it up so we can examine him in the light. He’s got some bad burns across his chest and a fair amount of blood on him, but I don’t think its his. It’s probably from the skewered corpse we found back in the woods.

We each cast our healing spells, working together wordlessly to patch him up until he seems in decent shape again. As we finish up, he stirs and blinks open his eyes.

“Sylvain, Felix. What are you doing here?” he asks blearily.

“When we found out that both you and Hubert were missing, we came to find you,” Sylvain says.

“I figured you’d be a reckless idiot and head off to Kleiman on your own. Turns out I was right,” I add.

“Reckless? Bold words for a man who I once found drugged out of his wits and screaming at a serial killer to come fight him,” Sylvain says.

I shoot him a glare. “Shut up.”

“No, Felix is right. I was an idiot,” Ferdinand says. “A complete damn fool.”

“Ferdie!” Sylvain chides. “That’s no way for a goddamn noble to speak. Watch your fucking language.”

Ferdinand smiles slightly. “I’m sorry. I am not myself right now.” He sits up and rubs his forehead with a wince. “Did you find the imposter’s body back there?”

“Yes. I’m assuming he came after you to stop you.”

Ferdinand nods. “He must have overheard me talking to you all in the council room. He tried to kill me, but I… I killed him first. I am so sorry. Now our chances of questioning him are gone.”

“But you’re alive. I’ll take that trade any day,” Sylvain says. He helps Ferdinand to his feet and says, “Let’s get you back to Fhirdiad to see a proper healer.”

“No, I have to go. If I go to Kleiman, maybe I can find some clues. I have to try!” Ferdinand protests. “He said that they have Hubert and that he is in bad shape. I have to find him before they kill him!”

“I think we might already have a clue to go on,” Sylvain says. “But you need a healer first.”

“I will be fine,” Ferdinand says. He looks over at his horse and holds out his hand. She steps closer to him and nuzzles it affectionately. 

“She kept good watch over you. I had to talk her into letting us even get near you,” Sylvain says.

Ferdinand smiles and hugs her neck. “Good girl. Brave as a lion.” He pulls himself up into the saddle and coughs, wiping a bit of blood from his mouth. He sags against her neck for a moment then takes a deep breath and sits up, taking the reins.

“Ferdie-” Sylvain begins but Ferdinand interrupts him.

“No. I am sorry but I must go. Even if there is no hope, I have to try. I owe him this.”

"Then we'll go with you," Sylvain says.

There is obviously no talking Ferdinand out of it and I know better than to argue with Sylvain. I meant what I said earlier anyways – I’m not going to sit idle while there is a lead we can chase to get more information. Hubert can rot in prison once we rescue him, but I can’t deny that it would be useful to find out what he knows.

“Let’s stop bickering and go get this over with then.” I spur my horse into a trot and ride off down the road away from Fhirdiad without waiting for them. 

They catch up to me and Sylvain tells Ferdinand, “I have an idea of how to find him.”

“How?” he asks.

“The journal. I was looking it over and I noticed that I recognized one of the drawings. It’s the silhouette of a town. It looks pretty unremarkable at first, but I recognized the outline of a small church. It has a distinctive sort of spire on top. I knew I’d seen it before. It’s in a town just south of the mountains. My father dragged me up to Kleiman once to try to marry me off to the margrave’s daughter. I remember seeing that church on the way.”

“That journal is just a trick,” Ferdinand replies.

“You really think they’re clever and creative enough to forge a whole collection of drawings and notes just to use as a small token? No, I think it’s far more likely they stole it from Hubert.”

“I told you! Hubert would never…”

“Listen, Ferdie, I’m not claiming to know him as well as you did. But I know that he’s a damn good chess player because he is always thinking one step ahead,” Sylvain says. “It’s not a strong lead. It’s more of a hunch, really. But it is the only lead we have.”

“You do not have to come with me on this wild goose chase,” he replies. 

“Good luck getting rid of me,” he says, “or Felix. Once he sets his mind on something, it’s pretty hard to stop him. I wouldn’t advise trying to argue with him.”

Ferdinand glances over at me but I just stare straight ahead and avoid his gaze. 

“I do not understand why you would help me,” he says.

“Because that’s what friends do,” Sylvain says. “You threw your lot in with us and fought bravely by our side, no matter how painful it must have been for you. It’s time for us to return the favor. You’re a Blue Lion and we lions look out for each other.”

Ferdinand is quiet for a moment then he says with an emotional tone in his voice, “Thank you. You have a noble heart, Sylvain.”

I snort and Sylvain laughs and says, “A noble heart, huh? I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I meant it as one.”

“Oh, I know. I just find it funny. I’ve been told otherwise my whole life.”

“As have I,” he replies.

“You? Ferdinand von Aegir, the paragon of nobility? Come on.”

“Some people just have different ideas of what that word means. I was often told by my father that I was a failure of a noble.”

“Well, I like your definition better seeing as it seems to mean foolhardy, brave and sentimental,” Sylvain says.

“And an idiot,” I add.

Sylvain laughs again. “Yeah, that too.”

Ferdinand smiles at us. “We will form our own meaning for the word.”

* * *

We ride as far as we can before the toll of the fight and the healing magic catches up to Ferdinand and we have to stop before he collapses. At dawn, we find an inn in a passing village and take a room so we can sleep somewhere warm for a few hours.

Sylvain and I fall into the bed too exhausted to say anything to each other than a mumbled _“I love you”_ before we are asleep.

In the morning, I wake to find Sylvain propped up in bed reading the journal.

“You’re getting as bad as me,” I say, tugging at his arm to get him to lie back down. “Sleep another hour.”

“I can’t stop reading this. You know how I love a good puzzle,” he says. “I think there’s a code to it.”

“And you think you can crack it?”

“Yes, I do in fact. No matter how clever Hubert was, I was still able to beat him at games once in a while.”

“I never knew you and he and Claude were friends,” I say, giving up on pulling him down to rest and sitting up instead. I snuggle next to him, hugging him for warmth. “How did you get them to keep your secret?”

“What secret?”

“That you’re not just a pretty face and there are actually some brains in that head.”

“I figured out a couple of their secrets and it bought their silence. I told Claude that I knew he was Almyran and I told Hubert that I knew he was madly in love with Ferdie. Both were just guesses but they turned out to be true.”

“So you blackmailed the two smartest people at Garreg Mach? Good goddess, Sylvain. You’re an idiot.”

“I thought it was rather clever of me.”

“I’m surprised Hubert didn’t just kill you or hex you.”

“He knew I was good friends with Ferdie, I think. That’s probably what spared me. He might have been a ruthless bastard but he had a soft spot for him.”

I look up at Sylvain and squint suspiciously at him. “How exactly did you become such good friends with Ferdinand? I always thought you just spent time with him because you were both in the cavalry and had to train together.”

“That’s probably just it,” he says but there is something evasive about the answer.

“Tell me the truth.”

Sylvain laughs nervously. “You don’t want to know.”

“Now I really want to know.”

“Fine,” he says. “I asked Ferdie out once. I really laid on the old Gautier charm but he just…” Sylvain laughs at the memory. “He gave me this big, bright smile and said ‘I see you are a man of good taste, Sylvain! I thank you for your offer. However, my heart belongs to another. I am sorry to disappoint you and cause you pain. Truly, I am.’”

His spot-on impression of Ferdinand makes me laugh and I ask, “How the hell did that make you friends?”

“Because I thought it was hilarious. I think he was the first person at Garreg Mach who was too oblivious to my philandering to realize I was just hitting on him on a whim and not secretly in love with him. He took the whole thing as a sincere compliment. It was refreshing to be around someone who was so ridiculously nice. He reminded me a bit of Dima in that regard. Anyways, it was a pleasant reprieve from your sharp tongue.”

“I thought you liked my tongue,” I say, leaning over to flick his earlobe with it.

I kiss his neck intently and he says, “Fee… Now is not the time.”

“Good lord. Can’t a man kiss his own husband without having ulterior motives?”

“Not when his husband is as handsome and enticing as me,” he replies and I elbow him in the ribs.

Sylvain returns to studying the journal and I get up and wander downstairs to the kitchen of the inn to procure us some breakfast. When I return, I find Ferdinand in our room, sitting next to Sylvain and arguing about some detail of the journal.

I shoot him a look that says _‘go away’_ but he doesn’t notice. With a sigh, I plunk the plates of food down on the table and drink my coffee in resentful silence. So much for enjoying a bit of goddamn privacy with my goddamn husband.

“I’m telling you, something seems off about this part,” Sylvain insists.

“The whole thing feels off!” Ferdinand says. “Hubert would never be this sentimental. It is absurd that he would reminisce about our school day memories. I guarantee that whatever feelings he has for me now they are not fond ones.”

“That’s probably true. So why is he bringing up these very specific instances? And how would Those Who Slither in the Dark know about these little mundane things? Sure he might have broken and told them his life story, but I doubt he would go into this kind of detail. And you said yourself he isn’t making these up. They are real memories.”

Ferdinand takes the journal and reads, “ _Do you remember that time you made me the worst cup of coffee imaginable and I thought you were trying to poison me? I still drank two cups though. Goddess knows why. But now, I would give anything for a cup of coffee, even if it was as horrible as that.’_ Does that sound like something Hubert would say? Does it?”

“No, but it’s a true story, isn’t it?” Sylvain says.

“It is, but what use is it, though? What clues could there be to his location in a simple anecdote about coffee?”

“I don’t know, but Seiros damn me if I don’t figure it out.”

“Are you two going to eat any breakfast or keep squabbling?” I cut in.

Ferdinand looks over at me in surprise as if he didn’t notice me walking in five minutes ago. “Oh. Thank you, Felix.” He sits down and starts to eat and I grab my plate and take it over to Sylvain who is still staring at the journal.

“Your glasses are all smudged. How can you even read?” I say and take them off his face, cleaning them on the edge of my sleeve. He reaches for them but I set the plate of food in his hand instead. “Eat. We need to leave. You can read on the road while you ride.”

I glance over at Ferdinand and say, “How’re you doing? You need any more healing spells?”

He looks taken aback at my polite concern and it rubs me the wrong way but I can’t deny he has a point. Ferdie and I have never gotten along that well. I can’t really say why. He was a decent sparring partner. I guess it’s just because he’s so… exuberant. Only Sylvain gets to be that talkative around me. It is a privilege reserved exclusively for him. I can’t handle two Sylvains in my life. One is more than enough.

Ugh. Even now, look at him! He had a night from hell, is at the end of his wits worrying about the man he loves and knows that the world is in dire danger and yet he is still full of energy and verve.

Fuck that guy.

“I think your spells last night have patched me up admirably. I will be fine. Thank you,” he says.

I try to steal a piece of bacon from Sylvain’s plate but he swats my hand away. Ferdinand notices and holds out a piece from his plate. I hesitate for a moment then take it from him with a curt, grateful nod.

Soon we are back on the road again and Sylvain is completely absorbed in the journal. His glasses keep slipping off his nose because of the swaying gait of his horse, but he just pushes them up every few minutes and keeps studying.

“Ferdie,” he says.

“Yes?”

He pulls a pen from his saddlebag and hands it to him along with the journal. “I want you to number each memory in chronological order. They are spaced randomly right now. Can you piece together the timeline?”

“I can try.”

“Thanks.”

As Ferdinand sets to work, I nudge my horse into a trot and ride ahead a ways, motioning for Sylvain to follow. Once we are out of earshot from Ferdinand, I ask, “Do you really think we can find this laboratory?”

“I do.”

I nod and stare out at the cold silver sunrise lifting above the distant mountains. I get lost in my thoughts for a moment until Sylvain says, “Come here.”

“I can’t. I’m on a horse.”

“Come ride with me. You’re so light you won’t slow Polaris down.”

“That’s his name? Polaris?” I ask, looking at his huge black warhorse.

“How do you not know his name? He’s one of my best friends,” Sylvain says.

“You horse people…” I rein in my horse and dismount, climbing up onto Polaris’s saddle in front of Sylvain.

He ties the reins of my horse to his saddle horn so it will trot alongside us and then puts his arms around me, pulling me close against his chest. I reach back and grab his cloak, tucking it around the both of us so I’m sheltered in it.

“That’s better,” he says, kissing the top of my head. He tucks his chin down to rest on my shoulder and presses his lips softly against my neck. “When this is all over, why don’t we spend some time in Fhirdiad with Dima and Byleth?” he murmurs. “I worry that you and I will get weird like hermits if we just stay up in Fraldarius and Gautier territory alone all the time.”

“Weird? Us? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It feels nice to have friends around again. I didn’t realize how much I missed having a mission and comrades. I just wish we had a less terrifying reason to have them again.”

“Me too.”

I twist around to kiss him and his warm mouth reassures me and helps drive away the icy chill of the wind in our faces. 

“I love you, Sylvain Fraldarius,” I whisper against his lips.

“Thanks. I love me too.”

I turn back around with a disgusted huff and draw his cloak tighter around me so I am completely hidden within it. Nestled against him in my cocoon and soothed by his trapped body heat, I close my eyes and try to keep my thoughts from obsessing over the dangerous uncertainty of what lies ahead of us, focusing instead on the feeling of safety I get wrapped in Sylvain’s strong arms. In moments like this I love him so deeply it hurts. I can feel it as a physical ache in my chest, too much for me to contain. I never thought I had the capacity to love anyone this much. Sometimes it baffles me how we ended up like this, how I got so lucky as to discover this strength I didn’t know I had.

“Fee?” Sylvain says.

“What?”

“Come here. I want to kiss you again.”

“Tough. I’m not coming out anytime soon. I’m warm.”

He tugs at his cloak but I clench it tightly in my hands and keep it drawn around me. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I growl.

“Come on! I am in need of affection.”

With a long-suffering sigh that I hope conveys exactly how great of a sacrifice I am making for the sake of love, I stick my head out from my cocoon and twist around to kiss him again. He kisses me back deeply, one arm wrapped around my waist and the other hand rubbing my thigh. 

“I love you too,” he whispers.


	7. In Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt (Felix POV):
> 
> “I’ve done it! I’ve found it!” Sylvain crows.
> 
> “What did you find?” I ask.
> 
> “That I’m a motherfucking genius and you all should show me more respect!”
> 
> “I have great respect for you,” Ferdinand replies.
> 
> “I meant you,” Sylvain says, giving me a pointed look. “You doubted me.”
> 
> “I did not doubt you. Now shut up and tell us what you found,” I say.
> 
> “I found the location of the laboratory, in precise detail.”
> 
> “What? How did you get that from that pile of drivel?” I ask.
> 
> “By using my big, beautiful brain!"

##  7 – In Memory

###  **Felix**

Ah yes. The morning ritual of trying to figure out if Ferdinand has frozen to death or is just sleeping heavily. It is our seventh morning on the road and each day I grow less and less sure he is going to survive Faerghus cold, even though it is a relatively mild winter this year.

“Are you alive?” I ask, poking him lightly with the tip of my sword.

He stirs restlessly and mumbles something.

“Ferdie,” I say and poke him again.

“I am Ferdinand von Aegir,” he mumbles in his sleep and rolls over.

“I'm aware. Wake up! I made breakfast!”

He jolts awake and stares at me with wide eyes. “What’s wrong? Are we in danger?”

“The only thing you are in danger of is frostbite. Come have some tea and food,” I say, handing him a cup.

He cradles the steaming cup in his hands, shivering violently. He takes a sip and burns his tongue, making an amusing face of regret. After he blows on it a minute more, he takes another sip and I can practically see the life return to his half-frozen corpse.

“Almyran Pine Needles!” he says. “Ah, a miraculous brew.”

I grunt in reply and drink my own cup in silence, waiting for Sylvain to come back over to the campfire from tending to the horses and make conversation so Ferdinand doesn’t chatter at me. It seems to be a nervous habit of his. And he seems to always be one push away from a nervous breakdown these past few days. Not that I can blame him. All in all, he is holding up pretty well. He never complains about the cold. Sylvain and I used to bitch endlessly about the heat back in Garreg Mach so I expected the same thing to happen with some southern country noble trekking through the wastelands of Faerghus. 

Ferdinand finishes his tea and breakfast and jumps up, stomping his feet a bit to bring feeling back to them. Then he grabs his lance and says, “There is only one way to warm up and it is to get my blood pumping. Will you spar with me, Felix?”

“Sure. Better than small talk,” I say, unsheathing my sword.

“My healing spells can’t reattach severed limbs, Ferdie!” Sylvain calls from the other side of our camp.

“Are you assuming that I will suffer grave defeat?” he replies.

“It’s Felix,” Sylvain says matter-of-factly.

Ferdinand attacks while I am still smirking over at Sylvain and I have to react swiftly to block the swing of his lance. He gains a step of ground with that attack as I fall back to reposition and the eager look on his face absolutely galls me.

“Come on, Fee!” Sylvain hollers.

“Shut UP!” I snap, beating Ferdinand back a few steps with a barrage of attacks. 

“Why are you holding back?” Ferdinand says. “I will not hold back with you!”

With a deft combination of strikes, he gains the upper hand again. I have plenty of experience fighting a lance with a sword and know how to handle the imbalance of range between the two weapons but Ferdinand fights in patterns and movements that I have not seen before. 

The Adrestrian soldiers fought with the sync and unity of a machine. Once I learned their tactics, I could defeat any of them with relative ease. But the more I study Ferdinand’s movements and adapt to them, the more I see a fascinating blend of styles. He was raised in the empire, but some of his moves are ones he obviously learned from Dimitri and Sylvain. He even has a few that I struggle to place until I realize I saw some of the Golden Deer students use them once. Who was that absolute ponce with the hair that made me wish I was blind whenever I looked at it? Lucas? Loras? Lawrence? I don’t give a fuck. But Ferdinand was friends with everyone. Did it mean he integrated all their regional fighting styles into his repertoire?

I get a little distracted trying to pick apart his tactics and lose more ground, only narrowly dodging out of the way of a strike.

“Fee!” Sylvain shouts. “If I’m stuck with the Fraldarius name you might as well not embarrass it!”

“I said SHUT UP!”

“If he wins, I’m divorcing you!”

“WE’RE NOT MARRIED!”

“You are not married?” Ferdinand says without his attacks so much as missing a beat. “Then what is the old-fashioned wrist band for?”

“It’s not a marriage band!” I snap. “It’s a fucking handcuff!”

“That is an odd symbol for marriage, Felix.”

“Is it? IS IT? I’m not so sure!” I yell and double-down on my attacks, beating Ferdinand back until he nearly stumbles over the campfire. He leaps out of the way of the flames and I lunge forward, landing a strike on him – not with the edge of my blade; I don’t want to actually injure him, of course. But I hit him with the flat of the sword hard enough it will probably leave a good bruise. 

“Well done!” he says cheerfully.

Well done? Don’t ‘well done’ me, you smug son of a bitch!

I spit out a curse and chase after him as he dances away out of reach of my sword. We go back and forth again for at least ten more minutes until I finally land a definitive strike on him and he lowers his weapon, admitting he has been bested.

Ferdinand is panting for breath and there is a flush to his cheeks that makes him look fully revived again. “That did the trick. Thank you,” he says.

“Anytime,” I say and go back over to the campfire to finish my breakfast.

Sylvain looks up from Hubert’s journal and smiles sweetly at me. “Good job. I’ll put the divorce papers away.”

“No, give them to me. I’m signing them,” I growl.

He laughs. “We’re not technically married, so technically you can’t divorce me. You’re just stuck with me.”

“I’ll have to resort to poison in your tea then.”

Ferdinand sits down next to us and asks Sylvain, “Have you found anything?”

“I think so. I keep coming back to this line and I think I’m finally onto something real this time,” he says, flipping through the pages to one near the beginning.  _ “I turn to my memories these days to find you. If I die here up in the wretched Faerghus snow, memories are all we will have. I hope you remember them too. If I never return to you, our memories will be the only place you can find me.” _

“How poetic,” I say.

“Yeah, it is,” Sylvain says. “He has a good way with words.”

Ferdinand’s mood has fallen grim and he stares down at the flames with a pained expression.

“Half the stuff in here is just random thoughts and all these inconsequential drawings. But after reading that line about finding him in the memories, I’ve gone through and catalogued all of them using the timeline you provided, Ferdie. I’m looking for recurring words or phrases and clues in the sequence of them.”

“And?” I ask.

“And that’s it at the moment. I’m still working. But I know I’m on to something. I just need to study it a bit more,” he says.

“I don’t know how you don’t have that whole damn thing memorized at this point. All you do is read it.”

“There’s a lot in here. It’s no small task to go through each and every word,” he says. “But I intend to have it cracked by the end of the day.”

“Good. We will reach the village at the base of the mountains tomorrow morning. If you don’t have it figured out by then we’ll have to start going door-to-door asking if anyone has seen a gang of dodgy witches kidnapping people recently.”

Ferdinand looks up from the fire and says quietly, “I have gone over all of those memories too. I cannot see any pattern in them. And any theories I have formed have come to nothing.”

“Are you giving up hope?” Sylvain says. “I thought it was the duty of a noble to hold onto hope no matter what and persevere through a challenge.”

Ferdinand smiles vaguely but the pained look lingers on the edges of his expression. “I gave up hope for Hubert years ago. Now that I have some back, I am not letting it go again.”

Sylvain nods encouragingly. “Then let’s get back on the road. We are so close.”

As we pack up camp and set out again, I keep to myself for a while. But after a few hours I can’t hold my curiosity at bay and I ride over to Ferdinand.

“How did you learn to fight like that?” I ask.

“Like what?”

“You use styles from all over Fódlan.”

“Some from even beyond Fódlan,” he says. “A strong warrior must consider all schools of thought and practice. Garreg Mach afforded us a truly unique opportunity to train with people from all over the world. Having my assumptions and experiences challenged by people with different backgrounds and perspectives was the most valuable thing I gained from our years there. Don’t you agree?”

“Sure. I learned a lot from Byleth.”

“Did you not study also with Petra and learn the techniques of Brigid or with Claude and learn those of the Alliance and Almyra?” he asks.

“I fought them in tournaments,” I say. “But neither of them were a match for me with a sword. Sparring with them wouldn’t have taught me as much as training with Byleth or Catherine.”

“Just because their strength and skill was not equal to your own enough to put up a challenging fight does not mean you still could not have learned from them. Fighting is more than angles of attacks and patterns of motion. It is also about mindsets and philosophies. Those you could have learned from the other students even if their swordsmanship could not hold a candle to yours.”

He doesn’t say the words in a smug tone. He is just trying to be helpful, I think. But it still makes me bristle defensively. 

I am saved from replying by Sylvain crowing in triumph.

We both look over at him and he shouts, “I’ve done it! I’ve found it!”

“What did you find?” I ask.

“That I’m a motherfucking genius and you all should show me more respect!”

“I have great respect for you,” Ferdinand replies.

“I meant you,” Sylvain says, giving me a pointed look. “You doubted me.”

“I did not doubt you. Now shut up and tell us what you found,” I say.

“I found the location of the laboratory, in precise detail.”

“What? How did you get that from that pile of drivel?” I ask.

“By using my big, beautiful brain! I went through the memories over and over, trying to use the timeline for a clue. But then I realized that the memories weren’t specific enough for Ferdinand to know their specific dates, so the only relevance they had would be in the actual wording of them. And you know what I found repeated in each of them? A number. Good fucking Seiros it was so obvious! You know what? I take it back. I’m an idiot. I should have seen this immediately. The fact it took me a whole week is ridiculous. It was so obvious. Good thing those slithery bastards are a bunch of morons or they would have seen it too.”

“Numbers?” Ferdinand says in surprise. “There are fourteen memories mentioned. If you found numbers in each of them, are they coordinates?”

Sylvain grins at him. “You bet your ass they are. Look at this; it’s so beautifully simple. Hubert didn’t write this for a genius to figure out. He probably knew we don’t have many of those in Faerghus. The first chronological memory says,  _ ‘I keep thinking of the day you told me you were joining the Blue Lions. I was so furious at you we didn’t speak for three weeks…’ _ So three is the first number. Each of these memories have a number in them and when you put them all together you get this.” 

He circles the sequence he has scrawled in the margins of the journal and tosses it to Ferdinand, who digs a map out of his saddlebag and compares the two.

“These coordinates are only a two-day ride away,” he says.

“Then we better buckle up and prepare for battle. We’ll be there before you know it,” Sylvain replies. 

My heart lifts at the prospect of a fight. I have had it with all this uncertainty. Puzzles and games are Sylvain’s domain. Mine is to cut through anything that gets in our way. 

As Ferdinand studies the map and the notes in the journal, Sylvain rides over beside me and smiles. “I told you I could crack it.”

“And I never doubted you.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t like you when you’re smug. Wipe that stupid smile off your face,” I say, although to be honest, it is adorable and just makes me love him all the more. I wish he could always feel so confident in himself. It would probably make him insufferable to be around but it is such a striking change from the Sylvain I used to know when we were young – beaten down, filled with self-doubt and deprecation. 

“Alright, alright. I will be humble. But I’m glad I finally figured it out. I was getting scared I wouldn’t and this would all be for nothing,” he says.

Standing up in the stirrups, I lean over and grab his saddle horn, jumping onto his horse. I’ve gotten rather good at this over the past week and my horse has learned to trot alongside Polaris on its own as I ride with Sylvain for a while.

Resuming my usual spot wrapped in the shelter of his cloak, I say quietly enough that Ferdinand can’t hear me, “You are a genius. Don’t crow about it and hold it over my head or I’ll stab you. But don’t let me ever catch you doubting yourself either. You’re amazing.”

“Aw, Fee, you’re too sweet to me. I can’t take it.”

I elbow him savagely in the ribs and he yelps.

“Don’t call me sweet,” I grumble and tuck his cloak up over my head, shutting myself away from the world inside it.

Sylvain tries to talk to me but I ignore him and after a while he gives up and we ride together in comfortable silence.


	8. Far From the Light of Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain, Felix & Ferdinand charge into the Agarthan laboratory and find within something unexpected.

##  8 – Far From the Light of Day

###  **Felix**

“What is that? A mine shaft?” Ferdinand wonders as we crouch in the cover of the trees and look at the mouth of the cave tucked away at the base of one of the mountains.

Sylvain swears under his breath and I glance at him worriedly. He doesn’t do well in enclosed spaces. But there is no way Ferdinand and I can handle whatever is in there alone. We will need his help.

I reach out and take his hand, squeezing it tightly. He glances over at me and I give him a reassuring smile. He smiles back faintly and nods.

“No one has come in or out in hours,” Ferdinand whispers. “We cannot afford to wait any longer and watch.”

Sylvain laughs nervously. “Where’s Byleth when you need her?”

“Well her and Dimitri’s genius idea to take Fort Merceus was to march up to the front gates, so I suspect she would suggest we simply walk in there and kill what’s in our way,” I answer.

“We have no idea what’s in there,” Sylvain says.

“It does not matter,” Ferdinand says, his expression set firmly in a look of intense determination. “Whatever stands in our way will not stop me.”

“Are you religious, Ferdie?” Sylvain asks. “Because if you are, now would be a great time to pray.”

He is silent for a moment then he says, “I used to be. Not anymore. Let us go.”

“I had five different plans of how to sneak into a building, but I didn't have any prepared for sneaking into a hole in the ground,” Sylvain whispers to me as we unsheathe our weapons and prepare for a fight. 

“And for once you can’t talk your way in with a wink and a smile,” I reply. “That eliminates most of your usual strategies.”

“It does indeed.”

Ferdinand hardly waits for us to be ready. He leaps from our hiding place in the brush and charges towards the opening of the cave, lance raised. Springing into action, I quickly outpace him. As Sylvain tosses out a fire spell to illuminate the area, Ferdinand and I swiftly dispatch the two guards we find at the head of the tunnel. As their bodies fall to the ground, Ferdinand leaps over them and barrels down into the darkness, holding a weak fire spell in his hand like a torch.

Thankfully Byleth forced the cavalry units to learn at least a little magic. Between Ferdie and Sylvain, we have enough light to navigate. But soon the darkness turns into a thick, pitch-black void and we have to slow down to a walk so as to not trip over piles of rubble and rough stone jutting out of the ground like spikes.

I glance at Sylvain and even in the dim light, I can see the sweat shining on his skin and the hyper-vigilant tension in his body, like a cornered wolf ready to fight or flee at a split-second’s notice.

“Sylvain,” I whisper and he jumps, looking over at me with wide, haunted eyes. “Keep your eyes on me. I don’t want you to look away for an instant until we’re in the light. Do you understand? Ferdinand and I are watching our surroundings. You focus on me and me alone.”

He nods nervously but his eyes flick away to stare into the darkness.

“Sylvain!” I hiss.

His attention returns to me and he murmurs, “Sorry.”

I step closer to him and grip my sword in one hand, resting my other hand on his back. “I’ve got you.”

“I love you,” he whispers shakily.

“I know. I love you too. Keep your focus on me.”

We fall quiet again and pick our way through the tunnel, shivering in the damp, icy chill. Once we are likely a good quarter mile in, light appears in the form of small glowing stones embedded in the walls. Ferdinand and Sylvain extinguish their flames and Sylvain begins to breathe a bit easier.

I let go of him and return to holding my sword hilt in both hands. We come to a curve in the mine shaft and pause, hugging the wall. I go first, peering cautiously around the edge. A furlong away are two Agarthans standing guard beside a door.

“There’s only two,” I tell the others. “Not much security.”

“We’re in a fucking hole. Their security is that no one could find this place,” Sylvain breathes.

“We don’t have time to approach. I can kill one from a distance. Ferdie are you any good at throwing your lance?” I ask.

He nods.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Drawing a knife, I take a deep breath to steady my hands. Then I signal to Ferdinand and the two of us jump out, hurling our weapons. My knife buries itself into the throat of one of the guards, silencing him before he can do more than gurgle out a choked gasp. At the same instant, Ferdinand’s lance hurtles through the air and strikes the other straight in the heart. Neither of them are dressed in heavy armor of any kind, just simple mage’s robes and black-beaked masks.

As the one hit by Ferdie’s lance sags to the ground, Sylvain bolts towards it, his long legs covering the distance quickly. The man tries to cry out but Sylvain tackles him, clamping his hand over the man’s mouth and seizing the shaft of the lance with his other hand, digging it in harder until it rips through the Agarthan’s heart and kills him.

Ferdinand and I come over and look through their pockets until we find a key for the door.

“So far so good,” Sylvain says, wiping the blood off his hands and handing Ferdinand’s lance back to him. “Good throw, buddy.”

“Thank you,” he replies automatically, his attention distracted as he presses his ear against the door and listens.

We wait for several minutes then Ferdinand whispers, “I hear three voices on the other side and footsteps. The way they echo around sounds like it is a large open room.” He puts his hand on the door hilt. “Are you ready?”

"Yeah," Sylvain says.

Ferdinand turns the key and throws the door open. In the moment we burst into the room I size up what lies within:

A brightly-lit room with high ceilings.

Four Agarthans – two in mages robes with the beaked masks, two in sterile white coats. 

A large surgery table.

An open door on the far side that leads to a dim hallway.

The moment passes and spells are hurled at the three of us, shouts and the crackle of magic filling the air. We dodge the spells and converge on the Agarthans. While Ferdinand and Sylvain battle with the two mages, I run after the two scientists who attempt to flee the room.

My dagger catches one in his back and staggers him. Catching up to him, I kill him swiftly with a clean strike to the neck and yank my dagger from his body. I can hear the cries and chaos of fights going on behind me, but I trust Sylvain and Ferdinand to handle it and focus on the remaining scientist. He is quick on his feet, but not as quick as me. 

Leaping over a crate of tools and glass jars, I bear down on him and tackle him. He is larger than me but he lacks the strength and quick reflexes of a warrior and I manage to wrestle him into submission. Grabbing one of my belts, I bind his wrists behind his back. Then I jump to my feet and before he can struggle up, I stomp down on his leg, dislocating his kneecap so he can’t get up or run off. He screams in pain but I ignore him and turn back to the fight.

One of the mages is down but the other is firing spells in rapid succession from both hands, holding both Sylvain and Ferdie out of range. Snatching up my sword, I race back and come at it from behind, forcing it to turn. It fires a spell at Ferdinand and at me, leaving Sylvain a brief opening to attack.

A zap of lightning catches Sylvain’s arm as he throws himself at the mage and he drops his lance. But he catches it in his left hand without missing a beat and strikes. As his lance impales the mage, I slash my blade across its throat.

Ferdinand runs over to the tied-up Agarthan, lifting him to his feet. He drags him into the hallway on the far side of the room and once Sylvain and I catch up, we slam the door behind us. But there is nothing in the hall to barricade it with.

“Fuck,” Sylvain swears. 

He summons a flame to his hands and we see a long stretching corridor with cage-like cells lining one side. There is only a single glowing orb next to the door to offer any kind of light to the room. The stone floor under our feet is slick with moisture and the air is heavy and damp, with an icy chill that seeps into our bones despite our warm clothes. It is a chill I feel in my spirit more than my body and I shiver, my skin prickling as if hundreds of needles were piercing it.

“Hold them off and brace the door while we search the cells,” Sylvain tells Ferdinand.

“No, I will-”

“Ferdie,” he says in a tone that brooks no argument. “Let us search.”

I glance at the look of dread in his eyes and understand what he is thinking. We have no idea what condition we are going to find Hubert in and we need to get him out of the cell without him killing us. The sight of Ferdinand could make him violent.

Ferdinand drops the scientist to the ground roughly and searches through his pockets until he finds a set of keys, which he tosses to me. The man spits a string of curses at him in a strange language and with an uncharacteristically savage  growl, Ferdinand kicks him in the chest, fracturing one of his ribs. Turning back to the door, he presses his back up against it to brace it, his lance clutched tightly in his hands and an anguished expression on his face.

Sylvain sets off down the hallway and I follow, peering into the darkness within the cells. But they are all empty and I begin to despair of finding anyone in this prison until we come to the final cell and catch sight of movement within.

Sylvain reaches his hand through the bars with the flame to illuminate the dark, cramped space and gasps when we catch sight of the small figure within. It is a young girl, likely no older than six or seven years old. She is huddled up hugging her knees and staring up at us with eyes narrowed warily. For a moment, I struggle to determine if she is even real. She is as fragile as a wisp, with hair and skin white as snow.

The sight of her evokes an emotional reaction so strong it catches me off guard. I struggle to figure out why for a second until I recognize the feeling as a painful déjà vu. I glance at Sylvain’s stunned expression and watch as it gives way to a look of agonized empathy.

A girl trapped in a dark, damp cage… A boy clinging to the slick rocks on the side of a well, staring helplessly up at the circle of light above, his legs tired from treading water… 

“Hey there,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “We’re here to rescue you. Don’t be afraid. We’re going to get you out of here, okay?”

Recovering my composure, I search through the keys until I find one that fits in the lock and open the door. The girl presses back against the corner of the cell and I nudge Sylvain. “You go.”

He sets his lance down and lowers his hands. “We’re going to get you out of here safely. I promise. Come on,” he says.

She raises her hand and a flicker of a spell rune glitters in the air for a second before being snuffed out like a candle flame. She clenches her teeth and tries again but the magic won’t cast. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Sylvain says. “But we need to hurry if we’re going to escape. Come on and follow me.”

He beckons for me to move away from the door and he steps back so that there is room for her to walk out without getting too close to us. The girl stands up and approaches it slowly, eyeing us calmly. She looks more suspicious than afraid. Something about that silent, fierce stare unsettles me. What the hell happened to this kid to give her a gaze like that? 

Her footsteps are shaky and her whole body is trembling but the composure of her expression never wavers. She trips over the edge of the cell door and Sylvain instinctively reaches to catch her but with a sharp, choked-off cry, she dodges away from his hands and picks herself up from the floor.

“Okay, I won’t touch you. I’m sorry,” he says.

“Hurry up!” Ferdinand shouts.

Sylvain and I walk back towards him and I cast a glance over my shoulder to make sure the girl is following us. She looks a bit steadier on her feet but with those short legs of hers, she is struggling to keep up with us.

Stubborn little thing. This would be a lot quicker if we could just carry the damn kid.

“There’s going to be some fighting ahead of us. Stay behind us and we will keep you safe, alright?” Sylvain tells the girl as we reach the door.

She nods and doesn’t seem particularly concerned by the idea.

Ferdinand looks over his shoulder and his eyes widen when he sees the girl. He turns to the Agarthan lying on the ground and kneels beside him, grabbing his shoulders and holding him up to stare at him furiously.

“What were you doing with this child?” he says.

“That is none of your concern,” the man growls. He glares past Ferdinand at the child. “You think you can walk out of here? We will find you.”

Ferdinand shakes the man roughly and says, “Tell me where to find Hubert! I know you have him here!”

The man laughs, hoarsely, his face contorted in pain. “Go ahead and take him. It won’t do you any good.”

“Is he alive?” Ferdinand says. “Tell me!”

“For all intents and purposes.”

“Where is he then?”

The man remains silent and I huff in frustration at Ferdinand’s pointless interrogation. Drawing my knife, I kneel down beside the man and place it at his throat, digging the point into his skin. “Talk.”

“Felix!” Ferdinand whispers. “Not in front of a child!”

I ignore him and place my other hand on the man’s shattered kneecap, pressing down on it to inflict greater pain on him.  He gasps and whimpers and I put more pressure until he cries out.

“Tell us where to find him!” I demand.

This man is not a warrior. His weak body and quivering expression of fear are enough to see that clearly. I trace my knife across his throat, leaving a bright-red line of blood behind as he grits his teeth to keep from crying out again. Then I slam my fist down onto his knee and he breaks.

“On the northern side! Go through the surgery room to the right-hand door!” he wails.

I withdraw my knife and stand up. “Let’s go,” I say.

I glance at the girl and see her look from Ferdinand to Sylvain and then turn her cold eyes on me. She walks up to me and taps me on the leg.

“What?” I ask.

She points at my dagger and then at the scientist. “It’s him,” she says so quietly I can barely hear her. “He did it to me, and to the tall man.”

“Did what?”

She rolls up her sleeve and I see scars across her wrist and forearm – strange symbols like the ones that were cut into Sterling’s body.

I stiffen with rage but force my voice to stay calm. “Close your eyes,” I tell the girl. She shakes her head but I stare at her firmly. “Close them.”

She gives in and puts her hands over her eyes.

“Fee!” Sylvain whispers but I grab the Agarthan’s body and drag him several feet away. He starts to babble something in terror, but before he can get a full sentence out, I slice my knife swiftly across his throat and his words are lost in the gurgle of blood.

Sheathing the knife, I return to the girl and say, “You can open your eyes but don’t look back. Listen to me. We’re going to have to move quickly to get out of here. I know you don’t want to be touched but you are not going to be able to keep up with us. I’m going to need to carry you, okay? I’ll put you down as soon as we are outside of this place.”

She nods and reaches her arms out. I pick her up and adjust so I’m holding onto her with one arm and brandishing my sword with the other.

“Fee, let me-” Sylvain begins but I shake my head. 

“You need both hands for that lance and so does Ferdie. I’ll carry her. Come on. Let’s go.”

The girl wraps her arms around my neck to hold on and I tense in preparation for a fight as Ferdinand opens the door to the surgery room.

Five Agarthans await us outside, violet dark magic glowing in their hands. One of them throws a spell at us immediately that Ferdinand barely manages to dodge as he leaps at the witch. But the others catch sight of the girl in my arms and hesitate.

So they don’t want to kill her.

Excellent. Now we have the advantage.


	9. Banshee Θ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt (Ferdinand POV):
> 
> At the end of the hall, there is a small halo of light from a glowing stone and I can see a shadow lurking within one of the cells.
> 
> “Ferdie,” Sylvain says quietly. “Wait here.”
> 
> I want to shove him aside and run to that cell. I want to shout out Hubert’s name and assure myself that he is alive. But I force myself to stand still, heart pounding, and wait.
> 
> Sylvain and Felix approach the cell cautiously but the shadow does not stir.
> 
> “Hubert?” Sylvain says. “Is that you? We’ve come to get you out of here.”

##  9 – Banshee Θ

###  **Ferdinand**

I glance over my shoulder at the little girl Felix is carrying, at the way she does not flinch at the sight of the five dead mages on the floor, nor at the blood dripping from our weapons. Her pale, silver-blue eyes turn to me for a moment and my heart aches at the calm look in them. She should be crying. She should be terrified. But she has obviously seen worse things than a few dead bodies killed mercifully in a swift fight.

The thought of what went into the making of her apathy makes my blood boil. Knowing that they had imprisoned Hubert for years had been enough to send me on this reckless mission, but seeing this girl here too in the clutches of the Agarthans… I swear I will burn this place to the ground on our way out.

As we head for the northern side of the laboratory, Sylvain tells the girl, “I’m Sylvain. This is Felix and Ferdie. What’s your name?”

The girl does not respond and Felix says, “I’m going to have to just call you ‘kid’ unless you give us an alternative.”

Where Sylvain talks to her in a gentle voice, Felix just addresses her in the same matter-of-fact way he does everyone else. I would not expect that to work better than Sylvain’s sweet tone, but to my surprise, she tells Felix, “Juniper.”

“Juniper? That’s the name of a shrub. What kind of name is that?” he says, but I think I can hear a hint of a teasing tone behind his gruffness.

“My name,” she answers.

“Hm. Well, listen, Juniper, we came to rescue a man named Hubert. He has dark hair, pale skin, a serious, unpleasant sort of face. Is that the tall man you were referring to?” Felix asks.

She nods. “Hue.”

“What?”

“The tall man Hue.”

“Have you spoken with him?” I ask.

“He was in the cage next to me,” she says. “But they took him away. He told me stories.”

“What kind of stories?”

“About Percy.”

“Who?” Sylvain asks.

“Percy the Pegasus?” I say. 

For the first time a bit of emotion shows on the child’s face. “You know Percy?”

“I do,” I answer, then explain to Sylvain and Felix, “A series of children’s tales. They were Hubert’s favorite when he was young. It has to be him.”

As we enter the northern corridor, we hear shouts behind us and turn to see more Agarthans charging at us. Sylvain and I throw ourselves in front of Felix and Juniper to protect them. Before we can get the door to the corridor sealed off behind us, a roiling cloud of dark magic seeps in and attacks Sylvain.

I grab him and drag him out of its reach. He coughs violently and gasps, “Thanks.”

Bolting the door behind us, we run down the hallway. There are no doors or cells along this one but as we come to the far end of it and turn the corner, we find ourselves in another cluster of cages. The room is as shrouded in darkness as the other prison, and Sylvain and I have to hold out fire spells to be able to see. 

“Are there any other prisoners here besides you and Hubert?” Felix asks Juniper.

“There was. Not now,” she replies. The bit of spirit that leapt into her voice at the mention of Percy is gone, replaced by her original hollow, flat tone. I shudder to think what that  _ ‘not now’ _ implies.

At the end of the hall, there is a small halo of light from a glowing stone and I can see a shadow lurking within one of the cells.

“Ferdie,” Sylvain says quietly. “Wait here.”

I want to shove him aside and run to that cell. I want to shout out Hubert’s name and assure myself that he is alive. But I force myself to stand still, heart pounding, and wait.

Sylvain and Felix approach the cell cautiously but the shadow does not stir.

“Hubert?” Sylvain says. “Is that you? We’ve come to get you out of here.”

I take a step closer. I cannot help it. I know I must stay calm and rein in my damn impulsiveness, but he is here, so close, and I cannot-

“Oh shit,” Sylvain murmurs and runs the rest of the way to the cell. 

“What?” Felix says, following him. He hands the ring of keys to Sylvain who tries them all in the lock to no avail.

“Hairpin,” he orders, holding his hand out to Felix, who yanks one out of his hair, causing it to spill down across his shoulders. Sylvain inserts the pin into the lock and starts working on picking it.

“What is wrong?” I dare to ask, taking another step closer.

“Stay back,” Felix snaps.

Juniper pats insistently at Felix’s shoulder until he sets her down and she walks over to the bars of the cell, sticking her face up to the gap and staring in. “Hue?”

It is an eternity before Sylvain gets the door open. He rushes inside and Juniper follows him while Felix hangs back warily in the doorway, sword still drawn.

“Is he alive?” Felix asks.

Do they think he is dead?

A choked cry escapes my throat and I run towards the cell, but Felix flicks his sword around to face me and says, “Stay back.”

“Let me see him!” I demand.

“I said-”

“Ferdie,” Sylvain calls from within the cell. “Come here. Help me carry him.”

My heart falls in dread and I pass by Felix, my hands trembling so hard my lance shakes. I set it down against the bars and step into the cell.

Sylvain is leaning over Hubert’s body which is slumped on a tattered cot, either unconscious or-

“He’s alive,” Sylvain reassures me, healing magic leaping to life in his palms. “He’s not wounded either, or asleep. He’s unconscious. I should be able to wake him up. Hang on.”

Sylvain concentrates on the healing spell and I stare at Hubert, the sight of him so surreal it is hard to believe. How can I trust my own eyes, after all? I have already been tricked by the evidence of my senses.

He resembles Hubert less than the imposter did. There is a haggard look to the lines of his face that has changed them from looking strong and sharp to gaunt and almost withered. His skin, pale to begin with, is now so ashen he could be a corpse. If it were not for Sylvain’s assurance that he is only unconscious, I would assume he is dead. Shadows rim his eyes, dark enough to look like bruises and his lips are parched, bloodied in places where they have cracked. Despite the cold, he is dressed in shirtsleeves with no coat or layers of any kind. The top few buttons are torn open and across the exposed skin on his neck and chest I see faded scars lacing across his body. Some are intricate symbols like the ones on the girl but others are surgical cuts and slices.

“I can’t get him to wake up,” Sylvain says. “It’s like he is drugged or something. We’ll have to carry him.”

Juniper reaches out and touches Hubert’s face, concern furrowing her brow.

“He’s going to be okay. We’ll get him out of here and heal him. He’ll be fine,” Sylvain reassures her but she does not look as if she believes him.

“We need to go!” Felix hisses. “More are coming!”

Sylvain and I pick up Hubert and I expect it to be difficult to lift him, for he is taller than either of us. But he is so bone-thin that we lift him with ease.

“I can carry him on my own for a little ways at least,” Sylvain tells me. “Get your lance and cover us.”

He hoists Hubert’s body over his shoulders and I grab my lance, stepping out into the corridor in front of the others.

“Can I pick you up again?” Felix asks Juniper and when she nods, he scoops her up and follows me. “Alright. Time to leave.”

“What if this is not the real Hubert?” I ask. “We have to be sure this is not a trick!”

“Then go ahead and search the place top to bottom. I’m taking the kid and getting out of here before one of us gets killed,” he replies.

“Fee is right,” Sylvain tells me. “We have to get Hubert and Juniper out of here. We can’t fight well while we are carrying them. We have to go before reinforcements arrive. Guard us at least until we get to the tunnel entrance then you can go back to search if you want.”

I nod and we continue down the hall back towards the surgery room. As we turn the corner, the door blasts apart and three mages rush in. The first dies to Felix’s knife in its throat instantly and I charge at the remaining two, weaving past their spells and attacking one. I feel a cloud of dark magic claw at me from the other mage and pain racks my body, but I do not let it deter me. Beating through the mage’s defenses, I slash the sharp of my lance across his chest, causing him to fumble from the pain. In that moment of opportunity, I swing my weapon around and plunge it into his heart.

The dark magic seeps through my armor and into my skin, stabbing it like needles, holding me in an agonizing grip of paralysis. I fight to wrench out of it, but I cannot break through the channel of the spell and free myself.

I manage to turn my head enough to see the mage just in time to see Felix lunging at them. Juniper is still hanging onto him but she raises her hand and fires a weak lightning spell at the mage. It distracts the mage just in time for Felix to attack. He brings his sword crashing down, cutting deeply into the mage’s neck, then he yanks it free and thrusts it through the mage’s chest.

The spell holding me breaks and I stumble, gasping air back into my constricted lungs. I look at Juniper, horrified that she had to witness point-blank Felix killing someone. For the first time, she does seem shaken. Hiding her face against his shoulder, she clutches her arms tightly around his neck.

“Ow!” he complains. “Stop choking me.”

She eases her grip a little but does not lift her head from his shoulder. He sighs and sheathes his blade, patting the top of her head.

“This will be over soon,” he says softly.

“Keep moving,” Sylvain says, breathing heavily as he catches up to us carrying Hubert.

Felix draws his sword again and I grab my lance from where I dropped it on the floor. We step over the dead bodies and enter the laboratory. I scan it again carefully, looking for any other doors. But aside from the two we have already been through, there is only one left. It is on the western side of the room and is flung open, revealing another hallway, no doubt leading to a room where most of the mages had been gathered when we first entered the laboratory.

“Come on!” Felix shouts at me, heading for the door that leads to the mine shaft.

Sylvain staggers after him but I hesitate, staring at that last door. What if it leads to another block of cells? What if the Hubert we have is another imposter and the real Hubert is locked up in some dark recess of the hideout, left behind by us?

“Go!” I cry. “I will catch up to you!”

“Ferdie, no!” Sylvain says, then curses. “Stay here, Fee.” He sets down Hubert and Felix stands guard over him with Juniper.

“Hurry!” he says.

Sylvain runs after me and the two of us race into the remaining hallway. This time it does not lead to a prison block, but to another wide open room. Unlikely the sparse and sterile laboratory, this room is crowded with shelves of jars and boxes of tools and surgical instruments. Strange glyphs and letters in an unknown language cover the walls from floor to ceiling, lit by sconces of candles, giving it the air of a shrine to some fell deity.

Sylvain stops and studies one of the shelves, picking up a bottle. “Shit. I don’t like this… This is blood, Ferdie! We need to get out of this fucked up place.”

I run to the far side of the room, searching for any other exits or entrances but it is a dead end. 

“SYLVAIN!” Felix yells in the distance and I turn back to the hallway.

“Come on!” Sylvain shouts at me, bolting back the way we came.

When we reach the main room, we find that a circle of runes have appeared on the ground, glowing and pulsing with magic. 

“What is this?” Sylvain says.

“I don’t know but we need to get the hell out of here!” Felix says.

Sylvain and I run towards him but stop dead in our tracks as the whole room flashes with magic and ten hooded figures materialize over the runes, cutting us off from Felix. They whirl around to face us, their soulless beaked masks staring us down as embers of red glow in the eye sockets.

“Run!” Sylvain yells at Felix. 

“I’m not leaving you!” he protests.

“GO! You have to save the girl!”

With a cry of frustration, Felix kicks Hubert’s body fiercely then turns and flees, carrying Juniper. He vanishes into the dark of the mine shaft and several of the Agarthans give chase, but he slams the door shut behind him, cutting them off momentarily.

The witches turn back to face us and I expect them to attack but instead one of them steps to the front of their ranks and says, “Sylvain Gautier.”

“Sorry, you’ve got the wrong guy,” Sylvain replies. “I’m not a Gautier.”

“Silence!” the witch snarls. “You bear the crest of Gautier. I can sense its power in you. Lay down your weapon and we will let your friends walk free of here.”

He laughs nervously. “Thanks, but I’m pretty sure you will just kill us all anyways.”

“No, his blood will be useful,” the witch replies. It thrusts its hand out and a spell launches from its palm towards me but Sylvain leaps in the way and takes the full brunt of it, staggering back.

“No!” I cry and catch him before he can fall, steadying him on his feet. Dark spikes rise up beneath us, writhing and wrapping around our ankles, dragging us down to the floor. I struggle free of them, but a lightning spell hits my leg, causing the muscles to seize up and spasm agonizingly.

“You are going to wish we would kill you,” the witch says, walking calmly towards me as I try in vain to drag myself out of the range of the magic.

But before he can make it more than two steps, a shrieking cacophony erupts as a storm of black and violet blasts overhead, lit by orbs of light. The magic comes hurtling down on the Agarthans and the roar of it is swiftly pierced by screams. The orbs burn brighter, a stark contrast to the thickening darkness within the cloud, and I cannot see what happens within that terrible storm until it dissipates, leaving behind a pile of bodies burnt and torn to shreds.

I raise my eyes from the carnage and see Hubert standing on the far side of the room, hunched over with one hand clutching his side and the other still held outwards from casting the spell. He stares at me for a long, paralyzing moment, his expression strained with intense emotion and his eyes wild. Then he collapses.

“Hubert!”

I stagger through the heap of bodies but slip on the gore-slicked ground. I throw my hands out to break my fall and they collide with one of the mangled bodies. With a gag, I scramble back to my feet and run over to Hubert. Kneeling down beside him, I take his body in my arms and feel for his pulse. He is still alive, but unconscious again and his heartbeat is uneven and weak. 

It is not simply that we did not find another prisoner in this hellish place. It is the look on his face as his eyes met mine that convinces me. I have him back – the real him. At last, I have found him and even if he is at death’s door, he is still alive and I can save him.

The feeling of his body in my arms, so damaged and delicate but still familiar, overwhelms me with love and relief and I feel tears sting in my eyes. Cradling him closer, I press my lips against his forehead and whisper, “I am so sorry it took me so long to find you.”


	10. Northern Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix and Sylvain do their best to comfort Juniper, who is overwhelmed by the outside world. Ferdinand continues to worry over Hubert who is still unconscious.
> 
> (The upcoming few chapters are going to be dark and bloody, so here is a bit of wholesomeness beforehand.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry! The Ferdibert reunion is coming. I just needed to take a breath and de-stress a bit before writing that doozy of a chapter. So here is the softest of Sylvixs.

## 10 – Northern Lights

###  **Felix**

It’s one icy bitch of a night and I can’t help but steal worried glances every so often at the kid, who is curled up by the campfire, wrapped in both my blanket and Sylvain’s. She seems to be sleeping just fine, but she’s skin and bones. How can she possibly withstand the cold?

Ferdinand looks like he might freeze to death. He is as close to the fire as he can get without being burned, shivering from head to toe and clutching Hubert’s body with a blanket wrapped around them both. He has not let go of Hubert since we made camp tonight, as far from the laboratory as possible and hidden away in a ravine. Thank the goddess, Hubert has not woken up again.

I need at least a little rest before I can handle taking him in a fight, especially considering the apocalyptic banshee spell he apparently cast earlier. That is disconcerting, to say the least. He was always strong – strong enough to give Byleth a run for her money. But even a powerful dark mage should not be able to disintegrate a dozen people with one spell while worn out and barely conscious.

“You and I aren’t going to get any sleep tonight, are we?” Sylvain says, sitting down next to me and wrapping his arms around my waist. He pulls me into his lap and wraps both of our cloaks around us. As he nestles his face against my neck, he breathes a sigh of relief and his shivers still slightly. I pick up his hands and cover them in mine, exhaling on them to warm them with my breath. Then I hold them against my chest and press a kiss on the side of his head.

“We’ve survived worse,” I say. “It’s the kid I’m worried about. What do we do with her?”

“Dimitri and Byleth can help find her family. For now, she had better stick with us to stay safe.”

“What do you think they were doing with her?”

“Messing with her magic, I guess. I wish I knew so we knew how to help her. She has to be scared even if she doesn’t show it,” he replies. “Maybe Hubert can tell us more when he wakes up.”

“What do you guess the odds are that he kills us when he wakes up?” I ask.

“Low. He wanted us to rescue him. Even if he hates us, he is too pragmatic to harm someone who can be of use to him. He won’t make it to Fhirdiad in his condition without our help. I think we will be safe.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“It’s Ferdie I’m worried about,” Sylvain whispers. “He is going to die of hypothermia out here. We’re used to Faerghus cold and we’re still miserable. He could actually die.”

I start to say that he will be fine, but Sylvain interrupts me by getting up, leaving me exposed to the cold as our cloaks go with him. 

“Get back here!” I say and turn around to watch in horror as he goes over to Ferdinand and sits down beside him. He says something quietly that I don’t catch then he hugs Ferdinand’s shoulders and drapes the cloaks around the two of them.

Traitor!

I glare daggers at him and he pats the ground next to him.

I shake my head furiously.

Sylvain gives me a look that says, _‘freeze then.’_

Seiros damn him.

I sit by myself in the icy wind until my teeth are chattering. Then I give in with seething bitterness and walk over to them. Deciding that if I am going to abandon my dignity I might as well be good and warm, I shove between Sylvain and Ferdie and duck under the blanket of cloaks. Trapped between their burly bodies, it is remarkably warmer and I finally stop shivering.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Sylvain smirking and I elbow him in the ribs with a _‘shut up_ ’ glare. Thank the fucking goddess Ferdinand does not say anything annoying. He doesn’t say anything at all, in fact. He is hunched over, cradling Hubert’s body in his arms, and staring listlessly into the fire. He is very clearly not in reality, whether from stress, weariness or the sheer suffering of being so damn cold, I can’t tell.

Sylvain reaches across me and tugs at one of Ferdinand’s long curls of hair. “Ferdie, you alive, buddy?”

He doesn’t glance up or so much as stir. There is just a quiet murmured “yes” from behind that curtain of hair.

Sylvain opens his mouth to ask another question but I give him a look that says _‘leave him be.’_ I can only imagine what is going on in his head right now but I know that if I were him, I would want to be left in silence to sort through it all. He is alive, he is warm enough to survive the night. That is the best we can do for him at the moment.

Sylvain understands and nods in agreement at my unspoken statement.

He leans his head on my shoulder and scoots closer to Ferdinand, squishing me between the two of them. I huff angrily at him but he ignores me, huddling the cloaks tighter around us to trap our body heat better.

I can’t help but enjoy the fact I am finally warm enough to feel all of my limbs and I slip into a half-dozing, half-awake haze, staring off into the night and listening to the crackle of the campfire. After a while, my mind comes back to reality to find both Ferdinand and Sylvain slumped against me, asleep.

I swear quietly and try to extricate myself from this hell. But I am trapped and the amount of effort it would take to push them off me would only wake them. And… well, it would be cruel to wake them up. If they are asleep, they can’t be cold and in pain and they were both badly wounded in the fight.

Damn me. I’m stuck being a pillow to not one but _two_ big ginger idiots. What have I done to deserve such punishment from the goddess?

A soft whimper catches my attention and I glance over at Juniper to see her tossing and turning fitfully. She fidgets until she rolls out of the cocoon of blankets and starts shivering. 

“Kid,” I whisper, trying not to wake the others. “Hey, Juniper. Wake up!”

I don’t know if it is my voice or the cold but she bolts up, chest heaving with panicked breaths. She looks around the camp, holding her hand out with sparks of magic flickering in her fingers. But when she sees me, the anxious tension in her body relaxes and her magic extinguishes.

“Bad dream?” I ask.

She nods.

“Go get those blankets back on you before you freeze,” I say.

She drags the heap of blankets over and sits down in front of me, bundling up in them. Her big, serious eyes stare up at me and I try to figure out what she wants.

“You hungry?” I ask.

She shakes her head.

“Thirsty?”

No.

“Cold?”

No.

“What the fuck do you want then?” I ask, my tone not sharp or unkind, just confused.

She shrugs.

“Fine. Well, if you need anything ask me and I’ll wake Sylvain and make him take care of you. He’s the nice one, you know. If you need something you should pester him. He likes kids.”

“He’s too shiny,” she says.

“Shiny?”

“Bright. Loud. He makes my head hurt.”

I can’t help but snort a laugh. “You make an excellent point. It gives me a headache to look at him sometimes too. It’s like staring into the sun.”

“Him too,” she adds, pointing at Ferdinand.

“Yeah, they’re both like that. It’s exhausting.”

“I liked Hue. He was quiet, even when he talked.”

Her use of the past tense does not escape me and I look at her curiously. “He’s not dead, you know. He’s just unconscious. He’ll wake up as soon as whatever they drugged him with wears off.”

She turns her sad, unnerving gaze on Hubert’s face and her eyebrows furrow slightly with concern. “He will?”

“Yes, he will. He already woke up once, although it was just for a minute. He saved Sylvain and Ferdinand’s lives. Then he passed out again. So he’ll be fine.”

He had better. We did not come all this way only to have him die on us now without giving us any information. We need that shifty bastard alive.

“We’re going to take you two back to the capitol. The king will help you find your family and get you home,” I reassure her.

“They’re dead,” she says simply.

“Your whole family? Are you sure?”

She nods.

Sympathy aches painfully in my chest along with fury at those monsters. If she knows her family is dead, it is likely because she saw them die. What kind of sick fucking bastards kill a child’s family and-

I stop my train of thought before I get carried away in anger. Anger is as useless an emotion as grief. Both cannot restore what was taken. The only thing I can do is stop Those Who Slither in the Dark.

“We will still find a home for you. Don’t worry. You’ll be safe in Fhirdiad.”

She nods again, her eyes dropping down to stare at the ground. 

“Hey kid,” I say but she doesn’t look up.

“Juniper,” I try and this time she lifts her head and her eyes meet mine.

“Are you going to go back to sleep?” I ask.

“No.”

“Yeah, me either. Come on, get up,” I say. Carefully, I lift Sylvain off of me and lay him down on the ground, then Ferdinand as well. I cover them up in the cloaks and watch with annoyance as Sylvain shifts in his sleep and puts his arms around Ferdie, hugging him for warmth.

I contemplate giving one or both of them a good kick, but I suppose I’ll let it go just this once so they both don’t freeze to death. Idiots. 

“Here, give me one of those blankets,” I tell Juniper.

She hands it to me and I switch Sylvain’s big fur cloak for the blanket, then I wrap her in the cloak, which is so comically large on her it almost makes me laugh. 

“How good are you at climbing trees?” I ask, gesturing at the towering pine beside our camp at the base of the ravine. She cranes her neck to look up at it with a look of trepidation.

“That bad, huh?” I say. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you. If we climb up to that branch there we can get a good look at the sky while still being able to keep an eye on our camp. Come on. It will be worth it. There is something I want you to see.”

Juniper squares her shoulders determinedly and makes a truly valiant effort but after climbing a couple feet, she slides back down to the ground, her twig-like arms too weak to pull her body up.

“Want me to lift you?” I ask and she shakes her head.

I jump and catch the branch, hoisting myself up onto it. Then I sit and look down at her expectantly. “Well?”

She tries again and makes it a foot further this time before her scrabbling fingers lose their grip on the bark and she falls. 

“You sure you don’t want a hand?” I ask.

“No,” she answers firmly.

Leaning back against the trunk of the tree, I dangle my legs over the edge of the branch, kicking my feet back and forth idly as I wait for her to either climb up finally or give up. I might be here a while. But at least it keeps her occupied. I figure as long as she is moving about, she will stay warmer and not have time to think too much about dark and depressing things.

Suddenly something latches onto my ankle and throws me off balance. I grab onto the branch to keep from falling off and look down to see that Juniper has managed to climb up just far enough that she can seize hold of my boot. I kick my foot a bit and she squeaks, clinging to it tighter as she sways back and forth. 

I raise my foot and she keeps hold of my ankle as I lift her up high enough I can grab her arms and pick her up. Plunking her down on the branch next to me, I scowl at her and say, “That’s cheating, you know.”

She giggles, or at least I think it is a giggle. It’s such a clipped, quiet noise I can barely hear it. But there is a bit of a smile on her face for the first time and I can’t help but smile back.

“Okay, listen. I brought you up here so you could see something,” I say and turn her around so she is facing away from the tree trunk and looking out over the edge of the ravine at the night sky. “Do you see that light there on the horizon?”

“What light?”

She is too short, isn’t she? Damn it.

“Hang on a second,” I tell her and climb up to a higher branch. This time when I reach down to pull her up she doesn’t argue.

We have a better view of the sky now and she should be able to see it despite how short she is. I point out at the glow of the northern lights on the horizon and say, “There.”

She looks like I struck her with a thoron bolt. With a quiet little cry, she scrambles to her feet and walks shakily out along the branch as if by drawing closer to the horizon she will somehow be able to see it better. 

“What is it?” she gasps, staring transfixed at the shimmering ribbons of green light. 

Despite the skeletons of trees silhouetted against it, we have a fairly clear view of the lights and even though I have seen it a thousand times, I still find myself getting enraptured by the sight too. 

_“There is only one good thing about Faerghus winters and I’m not letting you ungrateful brats miss it,”_ Glenn used to say as he would drag Sylvain and I out to see them. We would gripe and bitch about being woken up in the middle of the night, but once we were up on the roof of Fraldarius manor and Glenn was pouring us cups of hot cocoa from a thermos, all the complaining would stop and we would sit there watching it in reverent silence until it passed.

“What is it?” Juniper asks again and I realize that I was too distracted to answer her original question.

“It’s the northern lights,” I say. “You can see them when you’re up in the north of Fódlan during wintertime. As for what causes them, you’ll have to ask Sylvain. He would know.”

Unfortunately, we seem to have caught the lights at the tail end of their dance and they fade away before our eyes.

“Where did they go?” Juniper asks, turning around to look at me with a distraught expression. “Where did they go? Felix! They’re going away!”

“I know. It’s okay. They do that. They’re only visible for half an hour or so at a time. But maybe we’ll see them tomorrow night. They’re like a rainbow or something; they don’t last.”

“A what?” she asks.

“A rainbow? You know… the thing in the sky that looks like an arch and has all the strips of color? Happens on rainy days?”

She looks at me suspiciously like I am trying to tell her fairies and ghosts are real. Has this kid never seen a fucking rainbow?

“I’m not crazy. They’re real,” I say. “You’ll see one one of these days.”

Still looking unconvinced, she sits back down on the branch, her arms crossed over her chest and Sylvain’s cloak wrapped around her in several layers. For several minutes she is silent then she gives me a faint smile and whispers, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I didn’t do shit.”

“Thank you,” she says again.

“Stop it.”

She sniffs and wipes her nose on the edge of Sylvain’s cloak.

Wait. Wasn’t she smiling half a second ago? What’s wrong now?

“You alright?” I ask.

She shakes her head.

“You want to get down from this tree and go back to the fire?”

She nods.

With a sigh, I climb down and stand below the branch with my arms raised. She jumps and I catch her and set her down on the ground. We return to the campfire where she huddles up into a ball and buries her face in the cloak, her shoulders trembling and her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Is she just crying? Or is she having some kind of anxiety attack? Shit! What do I do?

Think, Felix. You used to be a little crybaby too. What did you do?

I went and found Sylvain. That’s what I did.

“Sylvain,” I whisper, kneeling down next to him and prying him off of Ferdie.

“What?” he mumbles groggily.

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

“The kid!” I hiss quietly. “She’s crying. Do something.”

“You do something. She trusts you more than me.”

“That’s because you’re too shiny.”

“I’m too what?”

“She thinks you’re too loud. Anyways, I don’t know what to do. Will you just help for fuck’s sake?”

“Make her tea.”

“What?”

“Just…” Sylvain sighs and rubs his eyes, sitting up. “Nevermind. I’ll handle it. You should try to get some rest anyways.”

As he gets up, I take his place under the blankets – not spooning Ferdinand, though, that’s for sure – and watch as he sets to work heating a thermos of tea over the campfire. He doesn’t try to talk to Juniper, but he does keep an eye on her from a distance. When the tea is ready he sets down a cup in front of her then sits down several feet away. He has that manner about him that he did when trying to calm Ferdinand’s spooked horse.

“Drink some tea,” he says softly.

Juniper looks up and notices the cup. She sniffs, hiccups, and wipes her nose again on Sylvain’s cloak which causes him to visibly wince. Then she picks up the cup and takes a sip. Sylvain waits silently until she is mostly finished with the cup then he asks, “What are you thinking about?”

She doesn’t answer and Sylvain says, “I’m thinking about what I’m going to eat when we stop at a town tomorrow. Maybe a nice bit of pheasant, some blueberry pie…” He gives her a smile – not his bright, _shiny_ smile; just a small, calm one. “That’s what I’m thinking about. How about you?”

“The lights.”

“What lights?”

“The green lights in the sky. Felix showed them to me.”

“Do they make you sad?”

She nods.

“Is it because they went away?” he asks.

“No.”

I expect Sylvain to keep asking questions, but he backs down and takes a sip of his own cup of tea, waiting for her to explain. He has to wait for quite a bit of time until she finally says, “Everything is too bright.”

Sylvain glances at me quickly with a heartbroken expression and I think I understand. The kid is overwhelmed because she has lived in a cell for who knows how long and now she is suddenly out in the open world. Unfamiliar freedom can be just as frightening as a familiar hell. I know that as well as anyone. Peacetime was just as unsettling to me as the terrors of war. In war at least I knew my place, just as in a cell she knew the edges and confines of her world. Here she doesn’t know anything anymore.

Sylvain turns his attention back to Juniper and says, “That’s why my cloak has a hood. See?” He reaches out slowly and lifts the hood up to cover her head. The fur lining sticks up around her like a lion’s mane and the heavy cloth shadows her face. “It’s kind of like a little tent. You can hide inside it and no one can see you.”

She sniffs again but the sound of her breathing has quieted and evened out and I can tell she isn’t crying anymore.

“Felix needs a couple hours of sleep, so I’m going to keep watch for a bit. I’m just going to sit here and drink my tea. But if you need anything, I’m right here, alright?” Sylvain tells her.

She mumbles something and he says, “What was that?”

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“You’re very welcome. Finish your tea, okay? I’m going to make some more.”

Sylvain falls silent and I close my eyes and try to quiet my mind enough to rest but it is manic and scattered, making sleep agonizingly elusive. After a while, I feel myself growing slowly mad with the frustration of trying to make myself relax. 

But right as I am about to get up and give up, I hear Sylvain start to sing. It’s a slow, soothing song and he can’t seem to recall the words to it so he mostly just hums. But whenever he comes to the chorus of which he remembers, he sings the words in a quiet, husky voice I’ve never heard from him before. I’ve only ever heard Sylvain half-heartedly mumble the words to hymns in choir practice or tunelessly belt out drinking songs in bars. I’ve never heard him actually sing.

Squinting open my tired eyes, I look over at him and see him restlessly poking at the campfire with a twig. Juniper, who is still awake as well, tucks her hood back to look at him, studying him as if he were a strange animal.

Sylvain ignores her and keeps humming and singing, switching to a different song now that he knows more lyrics to. It’s something about traveling, I think. It’s hard to hear specifically what he is saying and I am too weary to really care about the words. I am just mesmerized by the sound of his voice, so much more gentle and deep than I expected it to be.

Juniper stops staring at him curiously and curls back up. Her expression relaxes a bit and she looks as if she might drift off to sleep finally.

With a smile, I close my eyes too and let whatever spell Sylvain is casting do its magic and put me to sleep.


	11. Withdrawals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each time Hubert wakes from his fevered state he is different and by the time he is lucid enough to understand what is going on, all he has are disturbing words.
> 
> _Excerpt (Ferdinand POV):_
> 
> _“I’m not going to pretend to know specifically what you are going through,” Sylvain tells me. “But I have also lost someone I loved and found them again in a tortured state I thought they’d never recover from. Felix and I gave up hope for a while, but Byleth never did. And Dimitri came back to us eventually. He wasn’t the same. There is no going back to who we used to be after shit like this. But he still came back, in one form or another. Hubert will too.” He sighs. “So all I’m saying is, don’t give up hope. People can always come back, no matter how far gone they are.”_

## 11 – Withdrawals

###  **Ferdinand**

I awaken shortly before dawn to two alarming things. The first is the realization that the person clinging to me for warmth is Felix, who I have always gotten the impression would stab me sooner than hug me. But the second is more disturbing still. Hubert is burning up with a fever. He should be freezing, but even as he lies beside me with the blankets only covering half his body, his skin is drenched in sweat and hot to the touch.

“Sylvain!” I say, extricating myself from both Felix’s steel-strong arms and the pile of blankets and jumping to my feet.

He looks up blearily from where he sits by the fire, Juniper curled up in his cloak on the ground next to him. “What’s wrong?”

“We have to go! We need to get Hubert to the nearest town and find a faith healer or physician. He is running a terrible fever. I fear that he is ill, not just drugged or exhausted.”

Felix, who is awake at this point, grumbles, “Great. Now we are all going to get the fucking plague.”

Sylvain glances at Juniper, who is staring at us with wide eyes, and asks, “Are you feeling feverish too?”

She shakes her head, looking worriedly at Hubert. “He’s still asleep?”

“Yes,” I reply.

“Come on; let’s get going,” Sylvain says. 

I help him saddle our horses and we set out posthaste for the nearest village. Since Polaris is the strongest of our horses, Sylvain holds Hubert in the saddle with him as we ride and Juniper rides with Felix.

It is a grueling, anxious ride as we stop only long enough to let our horses breathe. By late afternoon we make it to the nearest village and find a healer and by then Hubert’s fever has only worsened. He still has not regained consciousness, but he stirs from time to time, shivering and mumbling incoherently.

As Sylvain and Felix take Juniper to the local inn to get her food and buy warmer clothing for her, I wait in the hallway outside the room the healer is caring for Hubert in, anxiously tapping my foot and running my fingers through my hair and trying to not let my tumultuous thoughts consume me. I am not particularly successful in that regard.

A cry comes from Hubert’s room and I jump up and bolt inside to find the healer trying to restrain him as he thrashes around on the bed, mumbling disjointed phrases that make hardly any sense. 

“Help me hold him down!” the healer says and I run over to the bed and take Hubert’s wrists, pinning them down as gently but firmly as possible. It does not take any considerable amount of strength to do so, for his body is weak from the things he has suffered.

“Can you give him a potion?” I ask the healer and she shakes her head.

“A sleeping potion of any kind would be dangerous to him right now. He is already struggling to breathe! Slowing down his breathing could suffocate him. Just hold him down until it passes. It’s just a bad case of the fever dreams,” she orders.

I kneel down on the bed next to him, keeping careful hold of his wrists, and watch the chaotic emotions flashing across his expression.

“I can’t… There’s nothing…” he mumbles, his voice rough and hoarse. Then he shouts, “Get off me!” and tries to struggle out of my grip. His eyes are still closed and his skin is slick with sweat. 

“Hubert,” I say, my heart aching at the look of anguish on his face. “Hubert, listen to me. You are safe here. Calm yourself so you can heal. Listen to me, please. You must stay calm.”

His eyes blink open and he squints in confusion at my face. “Ferdinand?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

As the disoriented haze deepens in his eyes, a snarl comes to his lips. “Get out of my sight!”

The hostility in his voice, no matter how much I expected to hear it, still strikes me viscerally, cutting down to the bone. “I cannot,” I answer. “Not until you calm yourself so the healer can treat you. Then if you wish I will leave. But until I know you are safe, I am not going anywhere.”

He thrashes against my grip and snaps, “Get out!”

I look at the healer pleadingly. “Is there not something you can do?”

“I can try to ease the fever and hope that calms him. Hold him down,” she replies. She traces a spell rune in the air and the light of faith magic glows from her hands. She places one on Hubert’s forehead and the other on his chest. He does not fight against her touch but he does stare coldly and furiously up at me.

Coward that I am, I lower my head and avoid his eyes, unable to bear the hatred in them.

“I am sorry,” I whisper.

“Your apologies are meaningless. Get out of my sight before I make you,” he says, the words tearing from his hoarse throat until his voice cracks. “Even if you were to come crawling back to us, there is no place for weak, treacherous men like you in her army. She will conquer and rule without you by her side and one day when you are dying in the mud and filth of the battlefield, you will realize how truly useless you have been to both her and Dimitri.”

She will rule?

This is not the Hubert of present day speaking to me. His mind is in the past. He is hallucinating, speaking words he has already said to me, seeing the Ferdinand of years ago in front of him.

“Almost done,” the healer says.

As she works, the heat radiating from his body fades and the flush in his cheeks cools as well. He stops struggling and his eyelids droop.

“Hold him a moment longer,” the healer orders. She goes over to a shelf and withdraws a glass jar. “This isn’t a sleeping potion; it’s just strong tea. But it could help calm him without affecting his breathing or heart.”

She pries his mouth open and pours in drops of the tea. He swallows it without resistance, but a grimace twists his face at its flavor. Once he has drunk a teacup’s worth, his body has gone limp and his eyes are closed.

The healer feels for his heartbeat then nods at me. “He has stabilized enough to rest for a while. Your presence seems to aggravate him. You should go. I’ll call for you if I need to restrain him again."

I turn away and walk towards the door with a heavy heart.

"Tell me something," the healer says, causing me to pause. "Was he a soldier?”

“Yes.”

“That explains it. The traumas of war do not mix well with fever hallucinations,” she says. She pauses for a moment then asks, “He fought for the empire, didn’t he?”

I look at her in trepidation. “If I were to tell you the truth, would you turn him away?”

“That answer tells me enough,” she replies. “But no, I will not. Every soldier, Faerghan, Alliance or Adrestrian… they all have enough blood on their hands to make me hate them. But if I don’t treat them, our country will never heal. He is safe with me. You have my word.”

I tuck my arm behind my back and give her a short noble bow of respect. “Thank you.”

She nods. “Now go. I will call for you when he has been calm for long enough that I trust him to see you again.”

I cast one last worried look at Hubert, then give in and leave the room, returning to my spot on the bench outside to wait.

After an hour when I have still not been allowed back in by the healer, Sylvain returns to the infirmary and sits down next to me, handing me a package of food. “Eat, Ferdie.”

I nod and take it from him, but do not open it up.

“Ferdinand,” he says insistently and I glance over at him. “You have to keep your strength up. Eat, please.”

His kindness moves me and I give in, taking a slice of some kind of meat pie from the package and eating a bite. Anxiety is tying my stomach up in knots and it is difficult to choke down a mouthful of the food even though it is not too bad. But I do my best.

“How is he?” he asks.

“His fever is reducing, but he is hallucinating and volatile. His mind seemed trapped in the past when he woke up and spoke to me briefly.”

Sylvain nods grimly. “I’m sorry. That must have been difficult.”

I force myself to take another bite of food but I do not reply to Sylvain. I simply do not know what to say.

“I’m not going to pretend to know specifically what you are going through,” he continues. “But I have also lost someone I loved and found them again in a tortured state I thought they’d never recover from. Felix and I gave up hope for a while, but Byleth never did. And Dimitri came back to us eventually. He wasn’t the same. There is no going back to who we used to be after shit like this. But he still came back, in one form or another. Hubert will too.” He sighs. “So all I’m saying is, don’t give up hope. People can always come back, no matter how far gone they are.”

“Edelgard didn’t,” I murmur.

Sylvain is quiet for a long moment then he replies, “I think she could have. Just because we didn’t find a way to get through to her doesn’t mean there wasn’t one, especially during the early years of the war. I think we made a lot of mistakes and we will have to bear the consequences of them for the rest of our lives.”

I am unused to hearing such grave and introspective words from Sylvain and I do not quite know how to reply.

He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “Don’t give up hope, okay?”

“How is Juniper?” I ask.

“She seems a little better than she did last night. Some hearty food has done her good. I took her shopping and bought her every single thing she took a shine to and I think that helped too. By the time we reach Fhirdiad, she will be the most spoiled little girl in Faerghus.”

I smile faintly. “Good. Poor child. Goddess knows what she has suffered.”

“Maybe Hubert can tell us.” Sylvain gets to his feet and says, “Felix is going to stand guard outside this infirmary. He and I will switch shifts. Let us know when he wakes up.”

“Thank you.”

As he leaves, I return to my waiting, the weight of each interminable moment stifling me until I can barely breathe under the pressure.

Then the door opens, the healer emerges and says, “You can see him now.”

“How is he?” I ask.

“Asleep again. His fever has stabilized. Try not to upset him.”

I nod and walk into the room, studying the sight of Hubert slumped against the pillows on the cot. He looks a little better, his skin no longer flushed with the fever and the restless spasms and jerks in his movements gone.

Quietly, I sit down on the edge of the bed and wonder if I dare wake him. I need to talk to him, for there are many questions that must be answered as soon as possible. But if I wake him again… 

I cannot bear to hear those words he said to me again. It was painful enough the first time. It was the day after Edelgard declared war. I had begged Hubert to convince her to reconsider and settle this without violence. He asked which side I would choose if she attacked Garreg Mach and I had told him not to make me choose between love and my own morals. 

At first he had been stunned, overwhelmed, a little panicky even.

_“Ferdinand, please, I need you at my side. The path that lies ahead of me is a dark and painful one and I don’t know if I can walk it without you. Just as Edelgard needs me, I need you. Please, don’t leave me to do this alone…”_

It was the first time I had ever heard him plead, and it was the last. 

Our fear of losing each other had provoked our young, hot tempers to rise up to cover our hurt and we had lashed out at each other’s obdurateness after that. He had spoken the words he repeated just now in his hallucination to me with a cutting vehemence born of desperation and I had responded with equal anger even as tears came to my eyes.

Our parting words were insults and when we met again on the battlefield, the wounds inflicted by them were too deep to be patched in such a bloody and frenzied moment.

And yet I still love him. I tried for many years to not. I have ample reason for any affection I hold for him to wither. But I have never met anyone who could make me feel the way he did when he loved me, and it is hard to relinquish love when there is nothing but emptiness to take its place.

So maybe that is all. Maybe I love him simply because I have not yet learned to love someone else.

I focus on that thought as I sit beside him, lifting it up to cover my raw, aching fear of hurt like a shield.

I will atone for my failures by rescuing Hubert now and ensuring that he is safe. And then I am free of my guilt and the bond between us. I need not still love him. I need not still hope against hope for his love. That is far too much to ask from life for people like us.

Hubert stirs and his eyes blink open, focusing on my face blearily. They widen slightly with shock then he masks the expression.

“Ferdinand?” he says in a low voice. The manic, disoriented look is gone from his expression and tone and I wonder if he is lucid this time.

“Yes,” I say. I meant it to be a question asking what he wants but it comes out more as a statement assuring him that I am here.

“You found me,” he says.

“Yes.”

“Did you find a girl in the cells? Did you-”

“Yes, we rescued Juniper too. She is safe,” I reassure him, then add, “She has been worried about you.”

He closes his eyes, nodding weakly. “Ferdinand?” he says again and I swear his tone is warmer or at least gentler.

“Yes?” I ask a little breathlessly, for it still feels rather surreal to be talking to him.

“The Spring Aria. In the Aegir opera box,” he murmurs. “Tell me mine.”

The code. I gasp slightly, heart leaping with hope. 

“The stableboy. You said he looked a little bit like me,” I answer.

Such trivial, ordinary secrets, and yet they are both the kind of vulnerable, inconsequential stories we would never tell anyone else – Hubert spending time in the von Vestra stables even though he did not like horses much just to be around the stable boy with the golden hair that he was trying to work up the courage to talk to; me hiding below the rail of the opera box so no one could see me crying my eyes out listening to Dorothea sing the beautiful Spring Aria.

He opens his eyes and stares at me intently. “Ferdinand,” he says for a third time, in a whole new tone now that I cannot read, but I think it might be relief.

I have a hundred questions I need to ask him about his imprisonment, about Those Who Slither in the Dark, about Juniper. But all I can do is wait with bated breath for him to speak.

“I… I can’t believe you’re here,” he says.

“You left the coordinates for me to find.”

“But I didn’t… it was just a wild shot in hell. I didn’t think it would-” he stammers. He closes his eyes with a wince and, to my astonishment, he reaches over and takes my hand and clutches it tightly. Stunned by the simple gesture of affection, I freeze for a moment. Then slowly I hold his hand in both of mine and raise it to press my lips against his thin, magic-burnt fingers. 

With my old infuriating lack of forethought, I whisper foolishly, “I have missed you. I am so relieved that this time I found the real you.”

He yanks his hand out of mine and for a second I think it is out of anger. Then I see him grasping fistfulls of the sheets, staring past me at the door in terror. “Did you hear that?” he whispers. 

Hear what?

I get up and walk over to the door, opening it warily. But no one is outside or anywhere near the hallway. I close it and return to him, but his alarm is not assuaged, only deepened. He continues to stare at the doorway, jumping a bit with fright as if hearing a startling noise. But it is perfectly silent in the infirmary.

“What do you hear?” I ask.

“Footsteps. Hush.” He pauses to listen then hisses, “They’re coming for me. Hide. Hide!”

“There is nothing out there.”

He turns his gaze to me and I see that the lucidity that rested in his expression a few minutes ago has vanished. His eyes are confused and his pupils dilated. Again he jolts with surprise and his eyes snap back to the doorway. With a gasp, he tries to scramble up to a sitting position against the wall but the effort is too much for him in his weakened state and he passes out.

“Hubert!” I cry and lower him down to rest comfortably on the pillows. I brush his hair out of his face and sit down on the edge of the bed beside him to wait until he wakes up again. 

As I keep watch over him throughout the long night, he regains consciousness four times, only to pass out once he gets worked up too much.

The first time he is still in a hallucinatory state, listening in terror to footsteps that are not there, growing more frantic as he asks me if I can hear them and I say that I cannot.

The second time, he asks me again for our code and looks relieved when I give it to him correctly. He asks again about Juniper and I reassure him that she is safe. He asks why I came to rescue him and I am unable to find the proper words for an answer before he slips into his fever dreams once more.

The third time he is furious to see me, spitting out insults we had said to each other during the fight we had that ended everything.

But despite his wildly swinging moods and dissociative state, it is the fourth time that he wakes up that disturbs me the most, for this time he seems to be completely lucid. 

Instead of seeking comfort from me or pushing me away in anger, there is no emotion on his face. He has donned the keen-eyed, dispassionate mask he has always worn and because of it I know that he must be coming back to himself. He asks me all that happened to bring me here and I tell him the story. Then he nods and stares numbly at the wall. I worry for a moment that he is listening to his hallucinations again, until he says with cold clarity, “There is likely no time for us to stop it then. We will be too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“They will act quickly to force our hand before we can figure out a way to defend ourselves. They tried the easiest route first but you thwarted them. Now they will take the harder road to accomplish their aim.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

Hubert shudders and rolls over, clutching the blankets up around himself. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late,” he mumbles.

“Too late to stop what?” I persist. “Hubert, you must tell us!”

But all he says before he shuts down entirely and slips into a dream-like state is, “They will have to kill so many to send their message…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on the next chapter:
> 
> Chapter 12 will be a brief interlude between the Sylvix & Ferdibert storyline. It will be a one-shot sort of chapter narrated through Byleth's POV and here is a bit of a teaser:
> 
> Turning to the soldiers gathered around us, I yell, “Another battle has come to our gates and we will win it with the same courage and strength that we won the last!”
> 
> The soldiers cheer and Dimitri raises Areadbhar and roars, “FOR OUR HOME, FOR OUR FAMILIES! FOR FÓDLAN!”
> 
> There was a time when he would have called on his soldiers to fight for honor or for revenge. Here we are suddenly thrust into the onset of another war, and yet we are far from the same people who fought the last one.  
> Dimitri and I yell our war cries together and he spurs his horse into a gallop, plunging past the shelter of the gates and out into the icy night.


	12. Interlude: Attack on Fhirdiad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude to the Sylvix & Ferdibert story, this oneshot chapter is told through the point of view of Byleth as she and Dimitri face the first strike in the war and discover a message from Those Who Slither in the Dark.

##  _12 – __Interlude: Attack on Fhirdiad_

###  **Byleth**

“Where did they come from?” Ingrid asks in dismay, surveying the eerie purple-flamed torches of the army below us. 

“We can figure that out later,” I say. “For now we need to hold the city.” I look at Dimitri who walks over to stand beside me on the parapet. “Fhirdiad can’t withstand a siege. We haven’t rebuilt it enough from when we laid siege to it ourselves. We need time to evacuate the citizens and for reinforcements to arrive. We have to ride out and strike at them before they reach the gates or they will overrun us and slaughter our citizens.”

He squints his one good eye to see through the darkness at the distant sea of torches. “It is reckless but it would be worse to hesitate and let our people suffer for it.”

“Do we have any idea what their numbers are?” Ingrid asks.

“Our scouts say five hundred,” I answer.

“We can take five hundred,” Dimitri says. “Perhaps even seven or eight.” He glances back at me and nods grimly. “Ready the church soldiers.” He puts his hand on Ingrid’s shoulder for a moment and gives her a reassuring look. “Call the knights to arms.”

We each bolt from our watch post to ready the troops stationed in Fhirdiad. As I go through the familiar motions of directing the soldiers and generals and swiftly composing a plan of attack, I cannot ignore the cold fear causing my skin to prickle.

They came on us so suddenly. It hardly makes any sense. It seemed as if their plan was to trick us into centralizing our forces so that our outer territories would be left vulnerable for them to pillage and conquer. Is that still what they hope to accomplish by marching on Fhirdiad? Because if that is the case then this is not the full extent of their might. These troops are but a distraction meant to give us just enough of a challenge that we are forced to call for aid to defend the capitol.

If we meet them in battle, we are falling in step with their plan, whatever it may be. But if we do not, we risk Fhirdiad and its thousands of citizens being massacred. I’ve seen what these butchers are capable of. If Remire Village was a small experiment run by a handful of Agarthans, what can an army of them do?

The strategist in me reels against this forced choice. I wish I had sent for Claude so that I could have someone with strange schemes up his sleeve to help me. We are caught up in the Agarthan’s scheme and are powerless to stop it and I wish I had someone with untraditional, creative tactics to help. Were it an army of humans out there, I would know what to do. An army of strange creatures whose weapons are unlike any we have fought before and whose motivations are only annihilation… Against an army like that I don’t know if even my expertise will be enough.

But Dimitri and I must do something to protect our people. 

When I have the church soldiers assembled by the gates, the Kingdom soldiers convene too, led by Ingrid’s knights. Dimitri charges in on his warhorse, its huge hooves clattering across the cobblestones. 

We hold a quick, tense battle council with the battalion leaders in which I outline our strategy. It is a simple one as we have no time to prepare and limited resources. Our goal is not to rout them, but to thin their ranks enough that they cannot launch a successful siege. Then we will retreat back behind the walls and ready our defenses.

As Dimitri climbs back onto his horse, I swing up behind him. Wrapping one arm around his waist, I hold the other out and ready my reason and willpower to cast spells.

“Are you ready?” I whisper in Dimitri’s ear.

There is no way we could have been fully ready for something like this, and yet he nods sternly and answers, “Yes.” He twists around in the saddle to kiss me for a moment. His lips are longing and intent, both seeking and offering comfort at the same time. When he pulls away, he says, “We will survive tonight, my beloved.”

I never know what to say to grave, earnest words like that. Despite all my years with him, it is still a struggle sometimes to speak the emotions that stick in my throat. But as always, Dimitri does not need words from me. He knows that I will fight with everything in me to keep our people safe and most of all, to keep us safe.

I cinch my arm tighter around his waist and raise my other hand to the sky, lightning sparks flickering in my fingers as I clench them into a fist. Turning to the soldiers gathered around us, I yell, “Another battle has come to our gates and we will win it with the same courage and strength that we won the last!”

The soldiers cheer and Dimitri raises Areadbhar and roars, “FOR OUR HOME, FOR OUR FAMILIES! FOR FÓDLAN!”

There was a time when he would have called on his soldiers to fight for honor or for revenge. Here we are suddenly thrust into the onset of another war, and yet we are far from the same people who fought the last one. 

Dimitri and I yell our war cries together and he spurs his horse into a gallop, plunging past the shelter of the gates and out into the icy night. As our army pours forth towards the sea of violet flames, thunder reverberates through the air and a host of storm clouds roll out across the sky from nowhere, blotting out the star and moonlight and sinking the fields ahead of us into a void of thick darkness.

When we come within range of their troops, I shout, “FIRE SPELLS!”

Bolts and streaks of flames fill the air, cutting swaths through the dark so we can see the army ahead of us. I catch sight of the unmistakable beaked masks that the blood witches in Edelgard’s army had worn. Then another source of light appears: spell runes in the air.

“VOLLEY!” I yell.

The group of dark and holy knights immediately behind our front lines launch a barrage of spells to counter the tide of dark magic that comes pouring from the Agarthans. A glittering chaos of magic explodes in the air as our magic repels theirs but our vanguard tears through it fearlessly, descending on the front line of the enemy.

The screeches of wyverns and pegusi come from overhead and I glance up for a split-second to see Ingrid leading our fliers to strike with bows and ranged spells at the more vulnerable units stationed behind the enemy’s front line.

As Dimitri’s lance leaves a trail of bodies behind us, I pick off the witches surrounding us with powerful thoron blasts to clear a path in front of us. Screams and battle cries mingle with the pandemonic clash of weapons, creating the deafening roar of violence that I had hoped to never hear again after Enbarr. But my mind does not recoil at it, nor does fear cause my hands to falter. No matter how I adapt to peace, there is no denying that war is my element.

Each of my spells hits its target and each cleaving strike of Areadbhar’s brutal head adds corpses to the heaps around us. These Agarthans may not be human, but they die like humans. Silver and steel still rends their bodies and magic still sears through their flesh.

We melt through them with surprising ease, our losses painful but insignificant compared to theirs. As I pause for a second to survey the battlefield, my instincts raise red flags in my mind.

This is too easy.

“FALL BACK!” I yell and Dimitri echoes the order in his booming voice.

Having accomplished well-enough our goal to thin their ranks, we start to retreat towards the gates of Fhirdiad when suddenly the battlefield shimmers and glows with unearthly magical light as hundreds of warp spells go off.

The Agarthans vanish around us, reappearing behind our army, cutting us off from Fhirdiad. A volley of small projectiles are hurled into the ranks of our rearguard and immediately the air starts filling with smoke.

“Shit!” I swear. “FALL BACK!”

Thank the goddess we are prepared for this. Knowing what happened to Sylvain and Felix earlier this year, we had masks made for our army. I just hope they work well enough to keep the smoke from their lungs.

A rumble trembles through the earth and Dimitri’s horse stumbles. I twist around in the saddle to see a huge shadow approaching us, darker than the night around it. As its earth-shaking footfalls grow closer, I see that it is a Titanus like the ones we fought in our battle against Cornelia.

With the battlefield now cleared of Agarthans, it rages towards us unimpeded, swinging its giant sword at our vanguard.

“We must hold it back!” Dimitri shouts and spurs his horse towards it. 

I throw a glance over my shoulder but it is difficult to see through the smoke in the air. Pulling my mask up tightly over my mouth, I then reach over to cinch Dimitri’s tight across his face as well.

I do not hear the sounds of conflict coming from the smoke and I hope desperately that most of our soldiers were able to plow through it and make it back to Fhirdiad unaffected, especially if this smoke is the nightshade poison Sylvain and Felix encountered.

As Dimitri’s horse gallops in range of the Titanus, I return my attention to the fight at hand, firing my spells at the mechanical beast’s weak spots as I learned to during our battle with Cornelia. Dimitri blocks the strikes of its lethal sword and guides his horse to skirt around the beast, giving me clear shots at it.

I hear its shield break and it staggers back after I launch a strong thoron blast at it from both hands and hit it squarely in the chest. Dimitri steers his horse out of the way of its retaliatory strike and I hit at the broken-down, vulnerable spot, shattering the mechanism that powers the beast. As it crumbles to the ground in pieces, Dimitri and I turn back towards Fhirdiad and our retreating troops.

Now that the clanking roar of the Titanus has been silenced, I can hear the muffled shouts and screams of terror coming from within the cloud.

I swear and say, “The masks aren’t working.”

I feel Dimitri stiffen and swear under his breath in a very un-Dimitri-like way. “What do we do? They could turn on each other! But if we go in there… I can’t- Byleth, I cannot risk-”

“I know,” I say firmly to steady him. “Go around it. Going into it will only worsen things. We have to see if the majority of troops made it out.”

It costs us a concerning amount of time to skirt the poisoned cloud and even though we try to keep our distance, I still monitor Dimitri for any signs of it affecting him. To my relief, he remains as steady and clear-headed as one can be during a horrifying battle like this.

When we circle back to the gates, we find half our army waiting for us. Half.

“Where are the others? How many fell in the battle?” I ask.

The battalion leaders give me their best estimates and dread steals across me with every number.

“Dimitri,” I murmur in his ear. “I’m going back to survey the damage but you can’t come with me, not while there might still be the poison.”

“I am not letting you go alone,” he says.

I bristle a bit. “You do not _let_ me do anything, my love. I am going back. It is what must be done. We need to see if they are regrouping to attack again and how many of our troops have fallen.

“Byleth-”

“I’ll go with her,” Ingrid says, her pegasus landing on the parapet.

She holds her hand out to pull me onto its back and I look down at Dimitri. “We’ll be back soon. Bolster the defenses on our walls. We don’t know if they will return.”

“Be safe,” he says, his expression etched with pain and concern.

“We will, your highness,” Ingrid says and nudges her pegasus to leap into the air. 

We glide over the fields below and see that the cloud has dissipated, as have the storm clouds in the sky. As moonlight floods the battlefield, we see no signs of the Agarthan army, other than the corpses they left behind. But as we swoop down lower to inspect the area where the nightshade drug was released, Ingrid whispers in horror, “Oh goddess…”

The hollow stillness in my chest where my heartbeat should pound grows even colder and stiller at the carnage that lies below. Here and there through piles of corpses stagger the few survivors, swinging their weapons and yelling at invisible foes or crouching on the ground trying to hide as they whimper and mutter in fear.

“Get back to the walls,” I tell Ingrid.

Her pegasus veers around and flies swiftly back towards Fhirdiad. 

“Assemble our healers and a guard for them! Hurry!” I yell as we land in the courtyard by the gates. “There are survivors. But they’re driven mad right now. They’ll have to be restrained! Bring them back safely! We will guard you.”

As they race to obey the order, I dismount and run to find Dimitri. He is overseeing the construction of our wall defenses but as I meet him, he takes my arm and pulls me to the side.

“Are you wounded?” he asks.

“Nothing more than some cuts and bruises. You?”

“Nothing that has not been already healed,” he says.

I take one of his gloved hands in both of mine and stare up at him. “They are gone. We are safe for the moment. We have time to prepare the city for siege.”

He nods numbly and I see the ghost of old, tortured and haunted Dimitri in his eyes.

“My love,” I say. “Look at me.”

He blinks and the expression clears as he gazes back earnestly at me. “Yes?”

“We will find a way through this.”

Clutching my hand tightly, he says, “I hope so.”

* * *

The night is everlasting in its uncertainty as we wait for the Agarthan army to return. But the fields outside Fhirdiad remain quiet and although we cannot see far into the darkness, we neither hear nor see any signs of returning troops.

Finally the shades of the sky begin to lighten on the horizon and dawn slowly sweeps in. Weary but still strong on our feet, Dimitri and I go to the watchpoint on the parapet and survey the field in the growing light.

“What the-” I gasp when the sun has burned away the dawn mist enough for us to see the ground. 

“Oh Seiros,” Dimitri groans. 

The carnage on the battlefield no longer lies in disarray. The bodies have been laid out across the ground carefully to form a huge sigil or crest – a circle split into seven sections with the shape of an eye in the center. And wreathing the circle is what looks like tentacles.

Above the nightmarish sigil are heaps of severed limbs arranged to form a message. The words chill me to the bone.

_‘A taste of what is to come when we return.’_

“Who would…” Dimitri says, his voice hoarse with anguish. “Who would deface the dead like that just to send a message?”

Feeling sick, I tear my eyes away from the sight and look over at him. “This whole attack has been a message. They were only toying with us. If they do return with the intent to kill us, we will be no match to them, especially with half of the Fhirdiad forces gone.”

“We need reinforcements, but if we leave the outer territories undefended…”

“I know. We can’t cover all our bases alone,” I say. I deliberate for a moment then add, “We should send for Claude and Petra.”


	13. No Rest for the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt:
> 
> “I warned you that day we fought and went our separate ways," Hubert says. "I warned you that there was something much darker and dangerous than a war in store for Fódlan and that I wanted your help in fighting it. But you refused to listen to me. You understand now what I was talking about, don’t you? What Edelgard and I sought to destroy once the war was won? What you and your wretched Faerghan friends enabled by stopping us before we could see our course of action through? Surely now you will heed my warnings, Ferdinand, even though they come far, far too late. Because as much as it galls me to the bone, I need your help now, more than ever. I need you to listen to me this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I added a chapter. I got blindsided last week with some really terrible shit and have been reeling to process it and amidst that stress kinda lost all ability to write. But I am here again, and even though this is a very short chapter, it is at least getting the wheels turning again for me, which is good, because writing is the best coping skill.
> 
> So please excuse the brevity of this chapter. The next will be more substantive. Thanks for sticking with the story! We are halfway through and now that Hubert is relatively lucid we will begin to get answers and A Plan to defeat TWSITD! Yay Hubert!
> 
> Also, if any of you have recommendations for good Fire Emblem fics, please drop them in the comments as reading has been a huge source of stress-relief and comfort to me right now and I appreciate y'alls recs! thanks!

##  13 – No Rest for the Wicked

###  **Ferdinand**

“They are coming. You have to listen to me,” Hubert begs me, his hand searching across the sheets to find mine. His fingers close around my wrist and he stares at me with a mixture of entreaty and anger in his expression. “We have to get out of here! You’re a fool if you think we can afford to sit here and wait for them to-”

“We do not have much choice,” I interrupt him, my patience at its limit from a sleepless night and this oft-repeated conversation. “You were near death’s door, Hubert. We had to find you a healer.”

“And now I am healed,” he growls. “They are coming! We have to leave!”

“We are guarding you. You will be safe,” I say.

“Not just me! They are not just after me. They are after the girl. What have you done with her? Is she safe? You must get her out of here and far, far away from their clutches.”

He has been relatively calm the past couple hours, thanks to the healer’s strong tea. But now his agitation is growing and I simply do not have the energy to handle it. And yet handle it I must. He is my responsibility to care for. I must keep him calm so he can recover.

I put my hand over his fingers that are clutching my wrist and look over to meet his gaze even though I still have trouble looking too deeply into his eyes, haunted as they are and yet even more beautiful than I remembered. “Hubert, you must-”

“Ferdinand, listen to me. They can’t get their hands on either me or the girl. If they do, thousands… hundreds of thousands could die. Either you stop being reckless and get out of this village or you kill me and Juniper right now. Because if we fall back into their clutches, the blood of all of Fódlan will be on your hands. Your hands, Ferdinand! Do you understand?”

“Kill you? And the girl? Are you insane?”

“They are going to use us as weapons. Do not let those weapons return to their arsenal, not now when they are nearly at the point where they are ready to fire them. I will kill myself and the girl before I let that happen. Don’t force that to be necessary,” he says, his voice gruff and dead-earnest, his eyes imploring mine – clear, sharp and terrifyingly lucid. He means every word of his grim statement. “We have to leave. Stop holding me prisoner here. I don’t have the strength to fight both you and them right now. I need you to work with me! Just once, just for now can you please just listen to me!”

“You need-”

“I need you to not let my years of suffering be for nothing,” he says so sharply he practically snarls the words. “I stayed alive for one reason and it was in hopes that someday I would have a chance to stop them. Otherwise I would have fired a spell straight into my own mouth and been done with it years ago. Don’t force me to do that now right as I finally have a chance to  _ do _ something!”

I have been given strict orders to make sure he rests and warnings of the damage that could happen to his head and his heart if the fever returns and escalates. But Hubert’s dread, no matter how nebulous it seems, shakes me to my core and I cannot continue to argue with him.

Glancing away from his insistent eyes, I think over the situation for a moment, weighing the dangers of returning to the cold, barren road too soon over the risks of staying. My breath catches when I feel the unexpected touch of Hubert’s fingertips brushing across my jaw. His fingers catch on my chin and he turns my face to look at him.

“I warned you that day we fought and went our separate ways. I warned you that there was something much darker and dangerous than a war in store for Fódlan and that I wanted your help in fighting it. But you refused to listen to me. You understand now what I was talking about, don’t you? What Edelgard and I sought to destroy once the war was won? What you and your wretched Faerghan friends enabled by stopping us before we could see our course of action through? Surely now you will heed my warnings, Ferdinand, even though they come far, far too late. Because as much as it galls me to the bone, I need your help now, more than ever. I need you to listen to me this time.”

His hand falls back to the sheets weakly and my skin aches at the sudden loss of his touch.

I deliberate for one more moment, still unsure if I should listen to the words of a hallucinating, fever-dreaming man over the stern instructions of a healer. Then I get up and bring over the warm coat and boots that Sylvain purchased for Hubert.

“Get dressed,” I say. “We will leave immediately.”

* * *

###  **Felix**

At midnight, Sylvain switches guard shifts with me and I return wearily to the local inn. He only left Juniper alone for a few minutes to walk over to the infirmary, but I am still anxious enough about her that I take the stairs two at a time as I hurry back to the room we rented. 

Quietly turning the key in the lock and hoping I won’t wake up Juniper, I tip-toe into the room only to find the lantern on the table lit and her sitting on a heap of pillows on the bed, hugging a stuffed horse. Atop her head is the ugliest hat I have ever seen in my life.

“Where the hell did you get that?” I ask, gesturing at her head.

“Sylvain,” she says. “It’s so pretty.”

I study the turmeric-yellow knitted hat with the ridiculous pink pom-pom on top and just about gag. “Hmph. Well, at least your head won’t be cold now.”

She holds up the stuffed horse to show me and says, “Sylvain bought him too.”

“Nice,” I say. “You give him a name?”

She shakes her head.

“You have to name a pet. You can’t just call it nothing.”

With a thoughtful frown, she studies the horse. “Percy.”

I yawn and sit down on the other bed, rubbing my tired eyes. “Aren’t you going to get some sleep?”

“I’m not tired.”

“You should be.”

“I’m not.”

“Hm. Well, I am,” I say. Leaning back against the wall, I set my sword down next to me on the bed where I can grab it at a moment’s notice and close my eyes. I can’t risk falling asleep in case there is danger, but I can at least rest.

“I’ll keep guard,” Juniper says.

“You do that.”

Five minutes later she says, “Felix?”

“What?” I grumble without opening my eyes.

“Is Hue going to be alright?”

“Sylvain said the healer is doing her job. He’ll be fine.”

Another five minutes of silence.

“Felix?”

Oh for the love of Seiros.

“What?” I ask.

“Can we see the lights tonight?”

“Not here in town. We’re too sheltered in this valley. Besides, they don’t show up every night. We got lucky last night being able to see them.”

I am just slipping into a relaxed, half-dozing state a quarter of an hour later when I hear, “Felix?”

This time I just ignore her, hoping she will think I am asleep. She barely spoke at all when we first found her. I hope she’s not going to switch to talking non-stop. Because between Ferdinand, Sylvain and a child jabbering at me I think I might actually go insane.

I hear her get up and walk over to me and feel something fuzzy nudge my nose. Squinting my eyes open angrily, I see her poking me with the stuffed horse. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, what-” I stop abruptly when I see the look on her face. She isn’t making idle chatter like she was earlier. She is terrified.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She puts a finger to her lips and whispers, “I think they’re coming to take Hue back, and me.”

I snatch up my sword and get to my feet, sneaking over to the door and pressing my ear against it to listen. But I don’t hear anyone outside.

“What makes you say that?” I ask her.

“I just…” Her expression turns a little hysterical with fear and frustration. “I don’t know. I don’t know. But I… they’re…”

“Hey, hey, kid,” I say gently, kneeling down in front of her so I am eye level with her. “Don’t get worked up. We are going to protect you. I promise you. You’re safe.”

“They’re gonna find me!” she whispers. “They’re… I don’t know. I don’t know but I know they’re nearby!” She reaches out and grabs my cloak, tugging it insistently. “We have to get Hue. They’re looking for him too! Felix, please! Please!"

“Alright,” I say. “Calm down. We’ll go check on him. Put on your coat.”

She grabs it and I help her put her arms through the sleeves then buckle it up. “Just stick close to me. We’ll be safe.”

I keep my blade drawn as I crack the door open and peer through it at the hall. There is no sign of anyone so I step out cautiously, sword raised. Juniper tags alongside me, clutching Percy in her arms.

I can’t explain it any better than she can, but some intuition is telling me something is wrong too. Maybe the kid just has me spooked. 

The sound of footsteps comes from the stairs and I shove Juniper behind me, mentally mapping out our options for escape if an attacker is coming up from the stairs. They are the only entrance to the second floor, but maybe the window from our room could-

It is Sylvain.

“Felix!” he says, his voice breathless and rushed. “We have to go. Ferdie’s saddling the horses.”

I nod and run back to our room to grab our bags. When the three of us meet Ferdinand, he has our horses ready to go and is hovering worriedly next to Hubert, who is slumped in the saddle of a new horse Sylvain must have bought.

“Are you certain you can ride?” Ferdie is asking him.

“It doesn’t matter. We need to leave!” he says.

So the Snake is conscious. That’s good news at least. 

I study him suspiciously; it’s hard to tell if he is deadly ill still or just ghostly pale by nature. He always was a bit of a corpse. 

“Hubert says we are not safe here,” Ferdinand tells me when he notices I have walked in. “He says we-”

“I know,” I interrupt. “Juniper said they’re coming after her and that we needed to leave. Let’s go.”

Juniper, who is perched atop Sylvain’s shoulders, is staring at Hubert with that uncanny blank expression of hers but when he looks over at her and the tiniest hint of a smile passes across his lips, I see her smile back.

“You’re awake,” she says.

He nods at her reassuringly then turns his attention back to Ferdinand. “We need to go south, not east. I will explain on the road.”

I guess we have no choice but to agree until we are out of the village, because we can’t exactly argue in public about our plans. But it bothers me that the Snake seems to think he is calling the shots all of a sudden. Is he even lucid? Sylvain said he has been in and out of consciousness and fever dreams. 

The streets are empty and dark, save for a few lamps in the windows behind thick curtains. We ride as quietly and discreetly as we can through the village until we reach the southern outskirts and plunge back into the frigid hills and valleys that the road winds through.

After a while, a patch of clouds passes across the sky and shrouds the road in inky darkness, forcing me to strain my other senses to stay alert. But all I can hear are the hoof beats of our own horses.

Juniper is in front of me in the saddle, only the silly pink pom-pom of her hat visible over the heap of blankets she is wrapped up in. I have to admit that the look of pure terror on her face earlier when she said that the Agarthans were nearby really shook me. She doesn’t seem to be scared of anything. She wasn’t scared in the laboratory. Why is she so scared now?

Maybe it is my worrying about her that distracts me, or maybe I am just too fucking tired to be perfectly on point, but when the first spell explodes from the night, it blindsides me completely. 


	14. The Letter That Went Awry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert reveals his plan of attack against the Agarthans and gives a few answers to the many questions Sylvain, Ferdinand and Felix have for him.

## 14 – The Letter That Went Awry

###  **Ferdinand**

“Felix!” I cry as a pulse of dark magic throws him and Juniper from the saddle. Leaping off Litha’s back, I run towards them, shouting, “Cover us!” to Sylvain and Hubert.

Felix has not gotten back to his feet yet but my first priority is the child. Juniper is sprawled on the ground a few feet away from him, struggling to extricate herself from the tangle of blankets.

Another spell rockets towards them but it is blasted back by a tide of dark magic and I glance over my shoulder to see Hubert clinging to the saddle of his horse, one hand outstretched towards us, violet flames of magic licking weakly at his burnt hands.

I make it to Juniper and scoop her up into my arms, placing her on Litha’s back. “Hold on!” I tell her and swing up behind her in the saddle.

More spells fly towards us, aimed at Sylvain this time. But Polaris dodges them expertly and at Sylvain’s command races over to Felix. 

I turn to try to catch sight of our attacker but before I can even draw my weapon, Hubert gallops over to me and grabs my arm. A roaring like the rush of a stormwind deafens my ears and I feel my body ripped apart and put back together in an instant.

Gasping for breath, I blink and get my bearings, finding myself on the ground in the midst of a shadowy thicket. Hubert is next to me, holding onto Juniper. He warped us, and quite a ways away from the road it seems for the noise of the fight is muffled by distance.

“We have to go back for Sylvain and Felix!” I whisper urgently. “Guard Juniper. I shall go and return with them.”

I scramble to my feet and lunge forward but Hubert catches my arm, pulling me back around to face him. “Let them fight. We need to escape while we can. I can’t let them capture her!”

“I am not leaving them behind! They are the only reason I was able to save you. I owe them everything,” I reply angrily.

“They can handle themselves in a fight. We need to go!”

Juniper reaches out and taps insistently at his shoulder. “Hue.”

“Ferdinand, come on, there’s no time to-” Hubert continues, ignoring her.

“Hue!” she whispers. “Help me. Please.”

“I am helping you,” he says, his tone instantly softening as he addresses her. “I will keep you safe.”

“Keep them safe,” she says. “Please, Hue.”

He looks conflicted for a moment then huffs in frustration and sets Juniper down. “I’ll be back. Stay hidden!”

The air shimmers around him and he vanishes. 

Crouching down to hide in the brush, I beckon for Juniper to hide with me and she huddles down in the shadows too. She does not speak, nor does she shed a single tear. She just waits, her tiny body tense and her breaths shallow and anxious.

The fact that Hubert immediately caved to her demand surprised me but when I study her in this moment with her silver hair practically glowing in the dark and her calm, pale eyes wide as twin moons, I begin to understand their bond a little better I think. Because right now she has brought an old, half-forgotten memory vividly to my mind.

Intent on settling some stupid argument, I had gone to Edelgard’s room one night during our school days and knocked sharply on her door. I had heard a startled cry inside like she was being attacked and out of worry, I had thoughtlessly and discourteously burst into her room to see if she was in danger. There I found her with the same look on her face Juniper has now, huddled in bed, staring into the darkness outside her window like she was seeing ghosts. I had never seen Edelgard frightened in my whole life, and even then I would have not have called her expression _fear_. It was too calm, just like Juniper’s. She had faced too much darkness to ever be truly afraid of anything. But it was a kind of dread nonetheless.

When Hubert looks at Juniper, does he see Edelgard – not the bloody emperor we all knew in the end, but the gentle, tormented child he tried so hard to protect when they were kids?

“If he doesn’t come back, you’ll go find him, right?” Juniper asks me.

“Of course. But let’s trust him and give him a moment more,” I answer.

She nods.

Our trust is not unfounded for after less than a minute, Hubert materializes next to us, one hand clutching Sylvain’s arm and the other dragging a wounded Felix. He sways unsteadily the second the spell finishes and tries to take a step, then collapses. I catch him before he can hit the ground and pick him up. 

“What about our horses?” Sylvain asks.

“We will come back for them,” I answer. “We were too exposed on the road with our attacker hiding in the shadows. Here we will have the upper hand because he will have to search for us and we can lie in wait. Come, let us find somewhere safe to hide Hubert and Juniper and then you and I will hunt down our attacker.”

“No,” Felix growls. “No hunting down assassins in the pitch-fucking-black forest. Let’s just get out of here. We can buy new horses.”

“Hypocrite,” Sylvain whispers at him which seems to mildly enrage him.

“Felix, please,” I entreat. “Protect Hubert and Juniper.”

“Fine. Don’t be reckless. If you’re outnumbered out there, just run. And if you’re not back in half an hour, I’m coming after you,” he says.

I carry Hubert over to the fern-shrouded base of a towering cedar tree and set him down carefully so he is propped up with his back against the trunk but his body still mostly hidden by the ferns. His skin is hot with fever again and he looks so pale it frightens me. 

He knew it would tax him to cast two powerful spells like that in close succession, and yet he did it anyways. Whether it was only to assuage Juniper’s worries or not, it was still an incredibly kind thing to do. And it was the sort of compassionate thing the Hubert I used to know would have done. 

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, I kiss his sweaty forehead gently before I stand up and draw my weapon.

“I will go first. Stay back and keep watch. When the mage attacks me, pinpoint his location and attack him from the other direction so he is forced to split his spells between us,” I tell Sylvain, a bit of my war general habits kicking in even though I do not have the right to order him around.

But he nods in agreement. “Good idea. Be careful.”

“You be careful!” Felix whispers furiously.

Sylvain plants a quick kiss on Felix’s scowling lips and follows me as I set out away from the hiding place, treading as silently but swiftly as possible. The more distance I can put between us and the others the better. We have to draw our attacker away from them.

It is an eerie hunt through the woods. In the winter the world is so quiet. All sane things are sleeping somewhere warm and safe. The only noise is the rustle of wind in the pines and the sound of my own footsteps.

Taking a circuitous route, I make my way towards the road but reach it coming from a different direction so as to throw off our attacker should they be waiting for us to return. When I am within range of her keen hearing, Litha whinnies and runs over to me, the other horses following her instinctively.

“Sshh, girl,” I murmur, stroking her forehead as she nuzzles me worriedly. “Where is the mage? Did you see them?”

I feel the shudder in the frozen dirt beneath my feet a second before the dark spikes explode from the ground. Bless her quick wits, Litha feels it too and leaps out of the way. The edge of the spell pierces into her left hind leg and she neighs in pain.

“Litha!” I cry. “Run!”

She obeys me and bolts, but as I try to run after her to escape the spellcaster’s range, glowing tendrils of magic rise from the ground and snake around my legs. I slice through them with my lance, but for every one I cut, two more take its place and I can barely move a step. But I have to break free! Unless the mage fires a spell at me, it will be nearly impossible to locate him in the darkness. 

Gathering the scattered pieces of my focus and taking a deep breath to center myself, I switch into fighting mode, relying on the instincts that years of war beat into me. Swift, purposeful strikes and nimble footwork free me from the pit of dark magic and I leap onto the unsullied ground and run.

Sure enough, the mage attacks again, but this time they are forced to use a lightning bolt to be able to hit me. I knew it was coming; I intended to dodge it. But it was quicker than I expected and cast with extraordinary accuracy. Even my trained reflexes were not enough to spare me from it and I took most of the blast straight in the back, sending agonizing shockwaves through my whole body that made my muscles spasm and my heart pound wildly in my chest.

My gambit was not in vain, though. A moment after the lightning spell hits me, I hear a scuffle and a cry, followed by Sylvain shouting, “Oh no you don’t!”

When the paralyzing effects of the lightning spell ease enough that I can move, I haul myself painfully to my feet and watch as Sylvain drags the body of an Agarthan over.

“Got him,” he says. “But there was someone else with him. She got away before I could catch her.”

“Damn it! Well, let us return to the others. It is too dangerous to be apart for long,” I say with a sigh. I have been in Faerghus too long. Not only am I starting to get used to being constantly freezing cold, but ungentlemanly curses are coming more frequently to my mind.

For a moment, I indulge myself in a bit of longing for the warm, sunlit fields of Aegir, then I return my attention back to the moment and help Sylvain search the Agarthan’s body. We find no possessions or money or anything, only a wraithlike dagger that disintegrates at Sylvain’s touch.

“More will come,” he says. “We need to get back to Fhirdiad.”

“I do not know if we will find safety there. Hubert mentioned that there could be an attack on Fhirdiad.”

“When?”

“I do not know.”

“We need answers now that he is awake and lucid,” Sylvain says, walking over to our horses and taking their reins.

“Indeed.”

To my relief, when we return to the others, we find them unharmed. Hubert is still unconscious and in terrible shape, but he does not look as dire as when we arrived in the village. The healer must have done some good, even if he left the infirmary too soon to be fully recovered from whatever it is that ails him.

As I tend to Hubert, bathing his feverish forehead with cool water and mixing together a simple vulnerary from the ingredients I obtained from the healer, Juniper sits next to me and watches silently.

“You okay, kid?” Felix asks her after he is done debriefing with Sylvain on our hunt.

She nods and when he sits down next to her, she climbs into his lap and wraps his cloak around herself. Felix stiffens in surprise and flashes a panicked look at Sylvain, who nods at him reassuringly. Relaxing a bit, Felix pats Juniper’s shoulder awkwardly and asks, “You want some tea?”

She gives a quiet _“_ mhm” and continues watching me take care of Hubert.

It confuses me that out of all of us, the girl would latch onto Felix but I suppose children are strange creatures. Despite having several younger siblings, I still do not understand them well. The children in my family were always strictly corralled by a legion of stiff-necked governesses, tutors and bodyguards, and there was little time for us to play and be friends with each other. We were herded from class to class, activity to activity since we were babies, told to study diligently, act properly and speak with quiet composure – although I know I was a constant disappointment in regards to the latter.

Yes, I suppose children are a mystery to me for I can hardly remember even being one. From the stories I have heard them tell, Sylvain and Felix were allowed to have a childhood together with their friends, despite their noble status. It is good they are here to help take care of Juniper while she is our responsibility. Goddess knows, neither I nor Hubert ever had childhoods of any kind.

“Can you try to wake him up with a spell?” I ask Sylvain.

He draws a bit of healing magic to his hands and touches Hubert’s forehead.

With a gasp, Hubert jolts awake and I tell him, “We are safe now. Sylvain and I took care of our attackers.”

When the wild, disoriented look clears from his eyes, he nods stiffly and sits up. But he is obviously too lightheaded still and nearly collapses again from the effort. I expect him to recoil when I reach out to steady him, but he leans gratefully into the arm I put around his shoulders. His expression remains drawn in a tight frown, but I can feel his body rest into my touch.

“Before we go any further in any direction, we’re going to need some answers,” Sylvain says.

Hubert gives a breathy, hoarse scoff of a laugh. “As would I. It has been over two years since Enbarr fell, has it not?”

“Yes.”

“Has Dimitri really done nothing to stop Those Who Slither in the Dark? Did he not march on Shambhala? Did he dismiss everything I said as a prank? I suspected he might, but I hoped at least he would surpass my estimation of him a little, enough to at least try to save Fódlan.”

“Shambhala?” Sylvain says. “What are you talking about?”

“So he did not just disregard my letter; he also kept it from his advisors. How very foolish,” Hubert says. There is less hostility in his tone that I would expect. Instead his voice is heavy with a soul-deep weariness that pains me to hear. A Hubert who hates us all vehemently somehow frightens me less than this version of himself that is calmer and yet darkened by a shadow of defeat.

“What letter?” Felix says.

“By the time you invaded Enbarr, I knew there was no hope left for the Empire. I wrote a letter to Dimitri informing him of the Agarthans and their plans for Fódlan. I also detailed the whereabouts of their hidden fortress Shambhala. In order to defeat them, that city must be razed. It is not the number and strength of their soldiers that make the Agarthans a threat; it is their technology. Their weapons are too advanced for ours to fight. They are created through their dark processes of science and magic in Shambhala. If it were to be destroyed, they would be a far easier enemy to defeat,” he explains. “However, I worry now that it might be too late. They will have grown stronger and built more lethal weapons these past few years, capable of the kind of mass destruction your old-fashioned Faerghan minds cannot even fathom.”

“Dimitri never received a letter of any kind from you,” Felix insists. “I’d swear to that. Because even if he hadn’t trusted you, Byleth would have and she would have insisted on marching on this Shambhala place. Your letter must never have made it to them.”

A pained look passes across Hubert’s face. He is silent for several moments, staring down at the ground with a dark expression. Then he says, “To think that all my preparations came to nothing all because one piece of paper was lost in the chaos of the battle...”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have made it so the only hope for Fódlan rested with a single fucking piece of paper,” Felix says.

“Fee-” Sylvain warns, nodding pointedly at Juniper.

“It’s too late. She’s already been corrupted by my bad influence. Let me curse when talking about such serious matters as the fate of humanity,” he replies testily.

Juniper looks between the two of them but stays silent. I do not know if she is comprehending our conversation or not, but she does seem worried. Maybe she is only concerned for Hubert’s health. I cannot tell.

“There are many things I should have done differently,” Hubert says. “I am not going to be too arrogant to admit that. I would not have lost the war if I had made perfect judgment calls. I was cocky and underestimated you. Because of it, I did not have much time to prepare for the possibility that the Empire would fall and Lady Edelgard’s most important mission would fall to the inadequate hands of the Kingdom. In that last hour, I took some comfort in the fact that an army powerful enough to overthrow the Empire just might be powerful enough to defeat the Agarthans. It is truly a cruel and ironic twist of fate that he never even had the chance to do the one thing I hung all my hope on.”

“What is in the past, no matter how unfortunate, does not matter now,” I speak up. “What matters is how we proceed. What are the Agarthans planning and how do we stop them? I refuse to believe that it is too late.”

“Of course you do,” Hubert murmurs so quietly I barely hear him. He glances up at Sylvain and Felix and says, “You will waste too much time returning to Fhirdiad to warn Dimitri of what is coming. And all the troops of Faerghus and even Byleth’s battle strategies will make no difference in this fight. All you need is me. If we ride hard for Shambhala, there is a chance – a feeble one, mind you, but a chance nonetheless – that we can destroy their weapons before they fire them on Fhirdiad.”

“Where is Shambhala? I have never heard of it,” I ask.

“Just south of Goneril territory in the east of Hrym,” he answers. 

“That is on the other side of the continent! It would be at least a three week ride.”

“Not with wyverns. I trust you can afford to procure some,” Hubert says, glancing at Sylvain. “I imagine conquering the whole of Fódlan replenished the stores of Gautier and Fraldarius gold quite nicely.”

“It did, actually, although we have invested quite a bit of it elsewhere,” he replies. “Still, I should be able to buy us some. I don’t know much about flying, though.”

“Hang on and don’t look down,” Hubert says dryly. “Once you muscle past the nausea, it is much the same as riding a horse. With the fate of the world at stake, surely you can figure it out.”

“So you are telling us we should leave Dimitri and Byleth in the dark about all this, go to the other side of the continent and do what? You can’t even cast a warp spell without passing out. Are Sylvain and Ferdie and I supposed to destroy a whole city on our own without magic?” Felix asks.

“There won’t be a battle. We will steal one of their weapons and use it against them. As for asking for your help, I am only doing it as a courtesy. This has been the course of action I have planned since even before my captivity. I intend to do it with or without your help. However, the fact remains that it is significantly more achievable with your aid.”

“There is very little reason we should trust you,” Felix says.

Hubert fixes Felix with a sharp, seething stare. “Were you there in the throne room when Lady Edelgard fell?”

He nods.

“Then you would have seen what they did to her, the magic they used to corrupt and torture her until she-” His voice breaks and he takes a ragged breath. “You need not trust my character. You need only trust my hatred for Those Who Slither in the Dark and after seeing the way they tormented and defiled Lady Edelgard, I should think my desire for vengeance would be beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

“Who is Edelgard?” Juniper pipes up.

Hubert looks at her sadly and says, “A woman who was taken captive as a child just like you were and subjected to the same experiments. She vowed to stop the Agarthans so no more children would be taken by them and tortured. But she was killed before she could. Now I will finish what she started and you and every other child in Fódlan will be safe from them.”

He did not temper the brutal honesty of the explanation but Juniper seems reassured by it. “Can I help?” she asks.

“It’s too dangerous,” Sylvain says. “Garreg Mach is on our way to Hrym. We'll take you there where the church can protect you.”

Hubert shakes his head. “She will not be safe anywhere until this is over. Leaving her with someone who does not understand the magnitude of the threat to her life will be but a death sentence for her. She is safe nowhere, so her best bet is to stay with us where we can protect her.”

“And march her straight into the city of the people looking for her?” Sylvain replies. “Are you crazy?”

“He has a point,” Felix says, drawing an astonished look from Sylvain.

“What?”

“Don’t leave me somewhere,” Juniper says, her eyes widening with fear for the first time. “Don’t- I’m not going to… Don’t leave-” She grows hysterical and jumps out of Felix’s lap, running over to Hubert. “Don’t let them leave me somewhere.”

Hubert glances over her at Sylvain and Felix and raises his eyebrows.

Sylvain looks at me, seeking backup, and I hesitate, conflicted. My heart balks at the idea of bringing a child on such a perilous mission. But I cannot deny the reason behind what Hubert says and the fact it convinced Felix enough to agree with him speaks volumes too.

Hubert glances at me and I nod.

“No one is leaving you anywhere,” he tells Juniper. “And we might need your help. Has your magic recovered from the last experiment?”

She raises her hand and tries to trace a spell rune but it flickers weakly. Her shoulders slump in disappointment and she shakes her head.

“It will come back,” Hubert says. “As will mine. It will take us ten days or so to reach Shambhala. I will be back on my feet by then and so will you.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Felix asks him.

“Withdrawals,” he says matter-of-factly. “The physical effects will have passed within two or three days.”

“Withdrawals? From what?” I ask him.

“A powerful sedative I was given to dampen my magic. When my body has recovered from the withdrawals, I will have the full extent of my power back and will be able to wield their weapons.”

“What weapons?” I ask.

“The kind that burn whole cities with one spell. That is why they will have tried to get Dimitri’s army to centralize. One of their weapons could flatten a mile radius. Several could kill every soldier and world leader in Fódlan in minutes. That is why your armies and tactics are laughably useless.”

The idea stuns me and I grimace in horror. “Is such a thing truly possible?”

“If you had been slightly less lucky you would have seen it with your own eyes already, although it would have been the last thing you ever would have seen,” he says. “There was a plot to fire one on the kingdom’s army at Fort Merceus. I know not why they refrained.”

“This is insane,” Felix says.

“Then give it thought on the road. We must continue our journey. We have wasted enough time.”

“I’m not sure you are capable of riding in this condition,” I tell Hubert.

“Then tie me to the saddle. No matter what it costs, we must stay moving. We barely have a shot as it is. Any moment we waste could mean our failure,” he answers.

I get to my feet and ask Sylvain, “Might I borrow Polaris? I am sure Litha would be happy to bear you for a while.”

Sylvain nods and fetches our horses. I offer my hand to Hubert but he disregards it and pulls himself to his feet with laborious effort. He walks towards his horse with slow, shaky steps and I lose my patience.

“We will lose enough time with your blasted stubbornness,” I tell him, holding out my hand angrily. “Swallow your pride and ride with me for a while. You must rest as much as you can, even be it in the saddle.”

He glares at me for a moment then relents and allows me to help him over to Polaris and lift him into the saddle. I swing up behind him and despite the awkwardness, wrap one arm around his waist, holding onto the reins with my other hand.

As I nudge Polaris into a trot, I keep steady hold of Hubert and he is able to relax without fear of falling out of the saddle. Polaris is a magnificent warhorse and barely flinches at the weight of two men, maintaining his smooth, strong gait admirably. Thin as he is, Hubert hardly weighs more than a suit of armor anyways, I suppose.

After a while, my damn impulsive mouth speaks the words I am thinking before I can stop it. “Thank you,” I tell Hubert. “You have given us a chance to rectify our failings. I am incredibly grateful for that.”

“Failings? You won a war,” he says bitterly.

“In all the wrong ways,” I reply, “and at far too high a cost.”

“Don’t give me some drivel about regretting your decisions. You would not have stood by them to the end without consideration for any other path had you not-”

“And did you consider any other path than the one you were assigned?” I interrupt. “I chose my fate, Hubert. Did you choose yours?”

He does not answer and I realize that an accusation was a poor way to follow an expression of gratitude. But I have always spoken my mind to Hubert and to hold back now would be more of an insult than a kindness.

“I did,” he says finally. “And that is what haunts me. I do not expect your decisions to haunt you for you have the advantage of victory to justify them. But they should as much as I am tormented by mine.”

They do haunt me, more than I can ever put into words. But I am too riled at the moment to admit that to Hubert and now is not the time for such arguments anyways. It is best for us to ride as quietly as possible and keep our attention on our surroundings in preparation for another attack.

So I fall silent and Hubert does as well. The tension of all that lies unspoken resides between us like a physical wall, and I find no comfort in the closeness of his body against mine. I doubt I ever will find comfort in his presence again, other than the simple relief of seeing him alive. 

Even should it be the case that I was not haunted by the decisions he and I have made, the consequences of them now between us are too tangible to not be keenly felt.


	15. To the Skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juniper & the Boys take to the skies on their way to Shambhala with some wyverns and shenanigans ensue.  
> Hubert tells Sylvain about the Agarthan weapons.

##  15 – To the Skies

###  **Felix**

“Oh I do not like this. I do not like this one bit,” Sylvain says in an anxious understatement as he grips the saddle horn and pats the neck of the wyvern who is tossing its head and growling.

“Tough. You’re the cavalier. You have to drive this thing,” I say, lifting Juniper up into the saddle in front of him. “Hang on, kid.”

Unlike Sylvain, she seems absolutely thrilled with the prospect of flying. “What’s her name?” she asks, stroking the beast’s armor-like scales.

“Valkyria,” Sylvain answers. 

Juniper scrunches her nose and sounds out the name. “Val-kiri-uh. That’s a big name.” She leans forward and hugs the wyvern’s neck. “Hi, Valkyria.”

“Careful!” I say but she ignores me, petting the beast with a fond smile. 

The wyvern stops stamping its giant, dagger-clawed paws and cranes its neck around to stare at her. Juniper stares back calmly. The wyvern snorts a hot, blustery breath that rustles Juniper’s hair and nudges her arm with its snout.

Well, I’ll be damned. They’re friends now.

Sylvain laughs nervously. “I think she likes you.”

“She’s so pretty,” Juniper coos.

I raise my eyebrows skeptically and study the wyvern.  _ Pretty _ is far from the word I’d use to describe this muddy gray-brown, massive, terrifying creature. 

“Alright. If Ingrid can do this, so can we,” Sylvain says.

“Ingrid can do a lot of shit you can’t,” I say, climbing up into the saddle behind him. “Like hit on Dorothea during our school days without getting a drink thrown in her face.”

“Ouch. Now that’s just cruel. Why would you bring up my most painful memory at a time like this?”

“Because it was hilarious,” I snicker. 

“Whatever. Good for Ingrid. I’ve moved on,” he says in a tone that implies he will never truly get over that heartbreak. He glances at Ferdinand. “Let’s go, Ferdie.”

But Ferdinand doesn’t hear him. He is too busy fretting over his horse, giving the boarding stable an endless list of instructions about how to care for her and what to feed her and so on and so forth. Sylvain had already gone through a similar routine with Polaris, albeit a little less lengthy and distraught.

“Ferdie, get your ass in the saddle. We need to leave,” I say.

He shoots me a withering look and hands the reins of his horse to the stable hand. Still, he hesitates and gives the mare one last hug, whispering something in her big, hairy ears to which she snorts and nuzzles his shoulder.

I glance at Hubert who is already in the saddle of the other wyvern, looking distinctly ill and I don’t think it’s just from his fever, for by now he seems to be over the worst of the withdrawals. 

“What’s wrong? Scared of plummeting to your death?” I ask, unable to resist poking at him.

Hubert is too distressed to fire back an acerbic response and instead mutters something about heights.

“I’ve been told the trick is to remember that falling from that height is a quick death. Unless of course the wyvern isn’t all the way in the sky and you just break all your bones when you hit the ground,” I tell Hubert and Sylvain jabs his elbow into my side.

“Stop it,” he says.

I smile to myself and turn my attention back to our wyvern, figuring out which straps to fasten around myself and making sure my boots are tucked firmly in the stirrups. To be honest, I don’t take a lot of comfort in the fact I’ll die quickly if I fall either.

Sylvain buckles a safety harness around Juniper and secures it meticulously to the saddle, telling her worriedly over and over again the instructions the wyvern-keeper gave us. She ignores him and continues to pet and coo over the beast.

Finally, Ferdinand gets in the saddle and says, “Are we ready to depart?”

“We’ve been ready for a quarter of an hour,” I answer.

He says something I can’t hear to Hubert to which he nods with a queasy expression. Then Ferdie flicks the reins of the wyvern and it crouches its powerful haunches then leaps into the air with a screech.

Hubert swears loudly and I would have laughed at him had not Sylvain nudged our wyvern to take off at the same moment, causing me to grab onto his waist and let loose a string of curses myself as my stomach lurches and the wind rushes in my ears. The further away from the ground we go, the more consternation I feel about the whole thing until finally we reach the right altitude and level out. 

Flying horizontally now, the nauseating pressure of the ascent eases and the wind whips with less ferocity around us. Soon we are gliding smoothly and my body has adjusted to the feeling of being in the air.

“Okay, this isn’t so bad,” Sylvain says. “How are you doing, Juniper?”

She squeals happily, pointing down at the ground. “Look how small the trees are!”

Sylvain follows her gaze and immediately gags. “Oh shit. Oh Seiros. Don’t make me look down.”

“Why?” she asks and Sylvain doesn’t reply. I think he is too sick to speak.

“How marvelous!” Ferdinand exclaims ecstatically, guiding his wyvern to fly close beside us. “Is this not spectacular?”

I relax a bit in the saddle and survey the view of the brightening dawn rising over the mountains and the way the sky around us is bathed in wispy, rose-colored clouds.

Yeah, it’s pretty alright. In fact, once you get used to the possibility of death, it’s downright beautiful.

“Shut up, Ferdie,” I say.

Completely undeterred by the rest of us, he grins and steers his wyvern to sweep in a graceful pirouette around us.

“Ferdinand von Aegir, you fucking bastard! STOP THIS AT-” The rest of Hubert’s furious yelling is lost in an undignified scream as the wyvern plunges down fifty feet then ascends again to fly level with us with what I think is a happy screech.

Juniper laughs and pats Sylvain’s hands that are holding the reins. “Us too! Us too!”

“No way. I want to live,” he says.

“Can I ride with Ferdie?”

“No. I want you to live too.”

“Let the kid do what she wants. She’s not going anywhere strapped in with that harness,” I say.

Sylvain sighs. “Fine. After we stop for lunch, you can fly with Ferdie and Hubert.”

“I want to too,” I say.

“Oh good goddess, are you serious, Fee?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. I’ll stick with Hubert then. He at least has a healthy respect for the precariousness of our situation.”

I want to talk to him about Hubert, but with Juniper in earshot, I decide to refrain. But Sylvain and I have not had much privacy the past few days to discuss everything. He has been remarkably polite to Hubert. I don’t know if it is out of respect for their school day friendship or because I know Sylvain empathizes deeply with his captivity, but he is friendlier to Hubert than any of the rest of us. In return, Hubert is begrudgingly non-disparaging to him. I wouldn’t call it friendliness and I don’t think that snake is capable of any kind of warmth, but he at least isn’t cold and brusque to Sylvain.

I never spent any time with him at the monastery and other than a certain amount of respect for him as a worthy opponent during the war, my feelings towards him were mostly of disgust. His overly-solicitous, unquestioning loyalty to Edelgard disturbed me and his ruthlessness on the battlefield was as annoying as it was impressive.

After the sheer amount of bad blood between Adrestria and Faerghus, I can never trust any ex-imperial to not plunge a dagger into my back with the right provocation. But I have to admit that what Hubert says about his hatred for the Agarthans makes sense.

I do remember Edelgard’s final moments and I cannot imagine what it would have done to me had Dimitri been the one to turn into that  _ thing _ and I had been the one unable to stop it.

A common foe can unite even the most vehement of enemies and so long as the Agarthans are a threat to Fódlan, I will fight beside Hubert. But after this is over…

Were he anyone else, had he suffered any other fate these past few years, I would insist he be tossed in prison and have the key to his cell thrown away. But no amount of distrust would make me wish that fate upon someone so scarred from brutal captivity.

I don’t know what will be done with Hubert after this battle with Those Who Slither in the Dark and I just hope Byleth and Dimitri are wiser than me and can figure it out.

Valkyria screeching at a flock of passing geese yanks me out of my thoughts and I watch in amusement as Sylvain tries to rein her in from chasing after the birds.

“I’ll buy you an entire sheep to eat when we land, just please, for the love of all that is holy, don’t-” he begs and stops with a yelp as she darts through the air and her vise-like jaws snap loudly in the air, narrowly missing one of the birds. The flock scatters and flees and the wyvern gives up her attempt at a mid-air snack and flies calmly once again.

We stop at noon and after experiencing the exhilarating terror of a descent, I can’t restrain my eagerness to fly more and as soon as we are done eating lunch – except for Sylvain and Hubert who don’t touch their food – Juniper and I climb up into the saddle of Ferdinand’s wyvern and Hubert transfers gratefully over to ride with Sylvain.

Flying with Ferdinand is wild. I didn’t realize he was as much of an adrenaline-seeker as me, and it’s a pleasant surprise to find something in common with him. 

His wyvern is younger and more manic than Valkyria and as it dances joyfully in the air, spinning and swooping with abandon, Juniper screams in delight and Ferdinand laughs. Even I can’t help but let out a whoop when Ferdinand yells “HOLD ON!” and lets the wyvern barrel roll through a swath of low-hanging clouds. The surreal feeling of spinning upside down momentarily takes my breath away in a wonderful but nauseating kind of way.

In the distance, I hear Sylvain shout, “DON’T KILL MY HUSBAND!”

“Again! Again!” Juniper chants.

When I join in with her, he laughs and gives in, guiding the wyvern to resume its wild, reckless antics.

Finally Juniper’s relentless giggling and screaming starts to get on my nerves and Ferdinand seems a bit worn out too, for he guides the wyvern to fly level beside Sylvain and Hubert. I notice that they are talking in grave tones with each other and try to overhear what they are saying but the noise of the wind and wings drowns out their low voices. I only catch the words  _ javelin _ and then a while later  _ catalyst _ .

When we make camp for the night in the slightly warmer regions of southeastern Faerghus, I pull Sylvain aside and we walk a ways away from the fire to keep watch together.

“What were you talking about with Hubert?”

“He was telling me about the Agarthan’s weapons,” Sylvain answers. “It’s scary stuff, Fee. Really scary. And the worst part is that I believe him.”

“Because he has no reason to lie?”

“He has some reason. It’s far-fetched and, I think, unlikely but there is the possibility he could be using us to get a hold of one of these weapons in hopes of firing it at Fhirdiad himself to kill Dimitri as revenge. But I trust my instincts about him and I don’t think that’s the case. It’s just a possibility I can’t dismiss, which is why I need to understand these weapons so I can be on the lookout for foul play.”

“Fair enough,” I say. The truth is that I trust Sylvain’s instincts too and he knows Hubert better than I do. “So tell me about the weapons.”

“There’s the Titanus, which we’ve already seen. We might encounter some of those in Shambhala if things go awry. And there’s the various biological weapons, like the one they used in Remire Village and the nightshade poison they used on us. But those aren’t the ones Hubert is concerned about. He said they have these things. He calls them ‘javelins of light’ but he says that’s an inadequate term to describe the true power of them. They are what caused the Valley of Torment. Long ago one was fired at Ailell and it destroyed the entire landscape.”

“What? That’s impossible. No kind of magic can do that.”

“A lot of things we thought were impossible have happened in our lifetime,” he replies. “I’ve stopped discounting things based on the fact I haven’t seen them happen before.”

“So Hubert thinks he can fire one on Shambhala?”

“Yes. He says that the weapons require a dark mage to use as a source of energy. It saps all of their magic out and uses it as a fuse to ignite this insane blast of magic, like an Agnea’s Arrow spell times a thousand.”

I shake my head and exhale a long, tense breath. “This is crazy.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“To think, six months ago a bit of poison was the worst of our problems,” I say.

“When that Agarthan said they were going to wipe out humanity, I figured he was talking about a long, large-scale war. I never would have dreamed he meant with one strike like this.”

Sylvain puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close, kissing the top of my head. “I’m sorry, Fee.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“I’m not sorry  _ for _ anything. I’m just sorry that things have come to this. I’m sorry we fell in love in times like this. I’m sorry that there is a very real chance we’re not going to be able to get old and crotchety and fat together like I hoped.”

“Hmph. Good luck getting fat off your housekeeper’s horrible cooking.”

“We’ll spend more time at Fraldarius manor when this is over, or at Fhirdiad. I will have to travel to the Sreng border a lot to oversee the ongoing negotiations and make sure that the ceasefire is maintained, but whenever I’m not on the road for business, I want to be with you and with our friends. I don’t want to waste any time with them.”

I move so I am sitting in his lap, straddling him, and I take his face in my hands and kiss him deeply. We are sheltered from sight from the others by a boulder and some brush and I give in to my longing for affection and intimacy and kiss him until we are both breathless. 

“Stop being morbid,” I tell him firmly. “We’ve got one dangerous gambit to pull off then this should be over. It’s not going to be a long, drawn-out war. It’s just one mission. We can survive this and then we can get to work on all that growing old together shit, okay?”

He smiles sadly, looking away from my eyes and off into the night. Picking up his hand, I kiss the wedding ring and stare at him stubbornly.

“Stop it,” I order. “Focus on me.” When he makes eye contact again, I say, “I love you, Sylvain Fraldarius. Stop being a dramatic idiot. We’re going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” he says.

“I never know that! You could die getting your cloak snagged on a tree branch while going for a ride, or you could slip and knock your head into the corner of a desk. You could die at any minute just as much sitting at home as you can charging into battle.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?”

“Yes! There are a million moments already in your life in which you could have died or I could have and yet here we still are.”

He slips his hand behind my neck and kisses me tenderly. “I’m sorry. I spent so long not giving a fuck whether I lived or died. Once I started to care, I think I swung too far in the other direction.”

“Well, I’ll take you being annoyingly cautious over you being ready to throw your life away at any given moment, but there is still a balance between the two,” I reply.

“I know. Are you done lecturing me?”

“For now.”

“Good. Kiss me. I’ve missed you.”


	16. Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt (Ferdinand POV):
> 
> _Hubert's bright eyes stare unwaveringly into mine and I feel my face flush slightly under the intensity of his gaze._
> 
> _“It doesn’t matter who wins or who loses a war. Every soldier leaves behind a part of their soul on the battlefield, don’t they?” he says darkly._

## 16 – Consequences

###  **Ferdinand**

“Luck is favoring us tonight,” I say as I explore the abandoned cottage we found tucked away in the hills a few miles off the road.

“I don’t believe in luck,” Felix mutters, walking past me with an armload of firewood that he dumps onto the hearth before setting to work starting a fire in the stove.

“Oh goddess, finally a warm cooked meal,” Sylvain says. 

“And a roof over our heads. Tonight we shall sleep well for once,” I say, mustering what forced cheer I can and giving everyone a smile. 

Juniper yawns and sits down next to the hearth stones, wrapping Sylvain’s cloak around herself tightly. She has been in one of her quiet, withdrawn moods these past couple days and I wonder if it is because she does actually understand our mission and its ramifications if we fail. It is hard to tell what goes over her head and what she comprehends.

“What are you doing to those potatoes?” Hubert asks Sylvain and I look over my shoulder in surprise to see him lurking like a shadow in the doorway, watching Sylvain’s supper preparations with an evaluating frown. I did not even hear him walk in.

“I’m going to roast them.”

“Plain?”

“I have some salt,” Sylvain replies.

Hubert mutters something about Faerghans and I don’t need to catch exactly what it is to take his meaning. Faerghus is not known for its excellent cooks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sylvain says irritably. “Our options are slim right now, okay? At least we have salt!”

“Do not put those in the oven yet. I’ll be back shortly,” Hubert says. He tosses the edge of his cloak over his shoulder and vanishes with a warp spell. 

“Where do you think he’s going?” Sylvain asks me. “Is he going to warp to the nearest town and steal me ingredients?”

“I have no idea,” I reply, weariness causing my cheerful manner to flag a bit. 

Having stoked the fire to a hearty blaze, Felix goes and sits down next to Juniper, pulling a book out of his pack that he got for her in the town we bought the wyverns at. After they found out that Juniper did not know how to read, he and Sylvain have been trading off giving her short lessons every night. It keeps her mind busy and helps her from retreating too deeply into her shell.

As he reads to her, I sit down on a sagging, weather-warped bench and hang my head in my hands, giving up on my attempt at high spirits altogether. During our days of battle, I kept up that indefatigable cheer like my life depended on it. There were too many reasons for our courage to fall and faith to dim. I strove to do everything I could to bolster hope. But Sylvain and Felix do not need me to. Hope burns brightly in their hearts of its own accord and I have found, much to my relief, that I can dare to be tired and somber around them without it feeling like a betrayal.

With a quiet  _ whoosh _ and a flicker of light, Hubert reappears with a bundle of plants in his hands.

“Step aside, Gautier,” he says.

“Don’t call me ‘Gautier.’ I’m not a Gautier anymore,” Sylvain grumbles.

“Fine. Step aside, other Fraldarius.”

Sylvain raises his hands in surrender, handing Hubert the pot with diced potatoes inside. “What have you got there?” he asks.

“What your land offers and yet your cuisine woefully ignores,” Hubert says, tearing up sprigs and leaves and sprinkling them over the potatoes. “Ferdinand,” he says.

“What?” I say then immediately amend my brusque tone, adding, “Can I be of assistance?”

“Have you any Almyran Pine tea on you?”

“I have a little left.”

“I only need a pinch. Less than a teabag,” he says.

I fish it out of my pack and bring it over to him. Ripping open one of the packets, he pours part of its contents over the potatoes then places the pot inside the oven to roast. Soon the rich, earthy aroma of herbs and spices has filled the cottage and even Juniper has perked up, abandoning her reading lesson to stand next to the hearth and watch the pot impatiently.

When he is satisfied that it is done, Hubert takes the pot from the oven and dishes its contents onto plates, handing us each one and chiding Juniper to wait until it has cooled before taking a bite, earning a glare from her.

Felix swears under breath as he takes a bite. “This is fucking delicious.” He glances at Sylvain. “If he can make something this good out of weeds and stale tea, why can’t your damn housekeeper make a halfway-edible pie? Huh?”

“Lay off poor Doris!” he replies. “She’s old.”

“She was a shit cook when she was younger,” Felix mutters.

Sylvain rolls his eyes. “Bring Oliver with you when you visit me then? I’m sick of your grousing.”

“Not as sick as I am of her pie. It’s a crime, Sylvain. A crime.”

It lasts only an instant, but I think I see the barest hint of a smile pass across Hubert’s lips before his normal grim expression returns. He takes Juniper’s plate when she holds it out, dishes her up seconds, and hands it back. Then he wanders over to his pack, withdraws his bedroll and walks off towards one of the small bedrooms without a word. I watch him go for a moment then return my attention to the others, finishing up my food and helping them clean up.

Sylvain and Felix retire to the other small bedroom to get some sleep and I offer to keep first watch, for my mind is restless and as much as I need rest, I doubt it will afford me any right now.

I offer to read Juniper a story, but she shakes her head and yawns. Picking up her stuffed horse and heap of blankets, she drags them over to the room Hubert is in to sleep.

Once quiet has fallen over the dusty cottage and I am alone with my thoughts, I get to my feet and pace restlessly, trying to prevent myself from sinking into a depressive state through inactivity.

I know not how long a period of time it is that passes – it could be minutes or hours; in my anxious frame of mind it is difficult to tell. But after a while, I notice a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye and turn to see Hubert emerging from the room. He sees me by the hearth and stiffens for a second, then walks past me wordlessly to the kitchen table where a pile of leftover herbs sits. 

He picks out a specific one I don’t recognize. But then again, I was never much of a botanist. Flowers and their courtly language I know, but edible plants are not my area of expertise.

Gathering up the flowers, leaves and roots of the plant, he places them in a mug of water and places the mug on the oven rack in the hearth fire, letting the coals heat the water.

“I thought you hated tea,” I say. It is a pointless remark and I reprimand myself silently for giving in to my nervous habit of talking whenever I am anxious. Hubert has no desire for small talk from me, and I have no desire to make it with him. He and I have hardly exchanged a word with each other that wasn’t about our mission this past week. Long days of wyvern travel do not lend themselves well to conversation and he flies most days with Sylvain not me.

“‘Hate’ is a strong word,” he says numbly, staring into the fire. As he fidgets with the hearth tools, stoking the coals, I notice that his hands are trembling. And the closer I study him, the more signs of distress I see in him. His whole body is tense and there is a strange, dilated look to his eyes that I would guess to be panic if it were anyone other than Hubert, for I have never seen Hubert panic.

Once his tea has steeped, he withdraws the mug from the fire and cradles it in his gloved hands, blowing on it to cool it. He does not remove the leaves and roots and I can only imagine how unpleasantly abrasive the taste of the tea will be with such a large amount of herbs left in for so long.

Before it is ready to drink, Hubert takes a sip and gasps with a frustrated grimace as it burns his tongue. Ignoring me determinedly, he blows on the tea some more, then drinks it. His hands are shaking so badly now it seems to cause him great effort to hold the mug still enough to not spill its contents all over him.

“Are you feeling ill again?” I inquire. 

“I can keep watch. You should go sleep,” he says.

“I could not sleep right now if I tried. I shall stay here. Now answer my question. Are you feeling ill? You have looked much healthier these past few days. Are you worsening again?”

“I am not ill. Now go. I would like to be alone.”

Normally I would have respected a person’s wishes should they request such a thing from me, but there is something in his manner that frightens me and my instincts tell me that leaving him alone is a bad idea.

I do not argue with him, but neither do I budge. As Hubert drains the rest of his cup and sets it to the side, it clatters against the table due to his violently trembling hands.

“You are not going to leave, are you?” he says in a strained voice.

“Not until I understand what state you are in and whether you require a healing spell or elixir,” I reply.

“I said I am not ill! Leave, Ferdinand!” he snaps. Hubert has never been one to raise his voice and thus has perfected the art of a whisper so forceful it feels like a yell. I recoil from the harshness of his tone as if it were a slap in the face.

“Suffer then,” I say. “I was only concerned for your health.”

Jumping to my feet, I start to stalk away when a soft gloved hand catches my wrist and I freeze.

Hubert does not say a word and when I glance back at him, the sight that meets my eyes shakes me to my core. His angry, stone-faced demeanor has crumbled away in an instant, leaving behind a raw, exposed look of anguish so vulnerable and so uncomfortably fragile it makes my heart burn with the pain of empathy.

“Don’t…” he begins, then trails off, his voice thick and breathless with emotion. 

“Hubert, what is the matter?”

“Don’t leave just yet. Don’t leave me alone right now. I shouldn’t be alone.”

“You just said-”

“I know what I said. And I am asking you now to stay. You need not speak or… or anything. Just… stay. Please.”

His hand slips away from my wrist and I sit down on the floor across from him, studying him in concern as he bows his head and lets his hair hide his face. It has grown long in his captivity and the wind and rain of our travels has made it curlier than I have ever seen it before. As he retreats behind the thick curtain of black curls, I reach out on impulse and brush it out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear.

He shivers at the simple contact but does not lift his eyes to meet mine.

“Tell me what is wrong,” I say softly. “I thought the withdrawals from that sedative were over.”

He gives a raspy scoff. “I have told many lies over the years, Ferdinand, but I have never told you one. I know not why, but there is something about you that demands honesty from me and like a fool I seem incapable of refusing it.”

“Are you implying that you lied about the withdrawals?” I ask. “Is something else the matter with you?”

“No, I did not lie about the withdrawals but I lied when I said that the drug they gave me was for the purpose of keeping me powerless and subdued.”

“Then what was it for?”

Hubert does not answer and I think he is regretting his reckless admission already.

I pick up his empty cup of herb tea and say, “Valerian root tea. I could not place the smell of it for a while but I remember now. Manuela tried to get me to drink it all the time. She said it was for my nerves. But I hated the taste and more than that, I hated feeling dull and tired.”

“The tea itself does little more than calm the body a bit and aid in sleep,” he says. “But a potion made of valerian, enhanced by magic… Once the Agarthans learned that physical torture would yield them nothing, they switched to that of the psychological kind. And once I was near the breaking point, they offered me a bribe. They would take away the pain and let my mind rest in peace. I gave them information, I gave them the journal so they could manipulate you and through you the kingdom… I justified it to myself, told myself that I needed to survive so I could escape and enact my plans, but I couldn’t do that if my sanity shattered. So I took the potion and gave in to their demands. Now I am reaping the cost of it.”

“What cost? Magical potions always have side effects.”

“Indeed. Magic is always a deal with the devil, isn’t it?” He gives another breathy scoff. “Damn me.”

“What is the cost?” I press.

“It enslaves you. My body has recovered from the loss of it in my system, but my mind… My mind is tearing itself to pieces and I can’t… Right now when I am so close to being able to finally accomplish all that I have hung onto these long years, to have my success threatened by my own mind infuriates me.” Hubert looks up at me and meets my eyes with a look of shame, hardened by anger. “I can’t believe I am speaking of this with you. You should go. You are the last person I should be-”

“No,” I interrupt. 

“No what?”

“I am the person you should tell these things to, not because I am your- your friend anymore. I am well aware that such familiarity will never exist between us again. But it does not matter. You do well to tell me because I, perhaps more than anyone, can fathom why a person would seek such escape from their own mind and thus I cannot judge you for any way in which you would pursue that relief.”

His bright eyes stare unwaveringly into mine and I feel my face flush slightly under the intensity of his gaze. 

“It doesn’t matter who wins or who loses a war. Every soldier leaves behind a part of their soul on the battlefield, don’t they?” he says darkly.

“Especially those who lose the ones they held dearest.”

His eyes flick away from mine and he shifts uncomfortably.

“I keep my demons at bay by staying active,” I continue. “I rise at dawn and work until I fall into bed at night, and I have done so every day. It is the only way I survived. To be trapped and isolated, to not be able to distract myself from those thoughts and memories – that would be the cruelest hell I can imagine.”

“Sometimes I think it was a just fate,” he replies. 

His words alarm me and I say, “Do not ever let yourself think that. There are many stains on our souls and much blood on our hands, both of us. But madness and torment is not how one atones for them. We atone for failures such as ours by working to rebuild the world we decimated with our conflict. Perpetuating the destruction by turning it in on ourselves… That helps no one and atones for nothing.”

“And what is it exactly that you have to atone for? I thought you were convinced you made righteous decisions,” he asks bitterly.

“I stand by my decision to leave the empire. But that does not mean I stand by the way in which I did. I should have found a way to-”

“There was never a way,” he interrupts. “You could never have swayed or negotiated with her, nor with me. Your choice to leave her side, once made, was irrevocable and there was never a way you could have mitigated its damage.”

I drop my gaze to the floor and nod gravely. “I like to believe there was a way, but I was too foolish to find it.”

“Why? So you can beat yourself with your failures like I do to myself with mine? Didn’t you just say self-torment is pointless? Or do your words only apply to others and not to yourself?”

“You misunderstand me,” I tell him. “I have tried many times to convince myself that what you say is true and there was nothing I could have done. But at the end of the day, I prefer to believe that there was and I missed it. Because I want to believe that no choices are irrevocable and there is always a chance to come back from mistakes.”

“There is nothing to come back to. Your home is gone. Your country and your emperor and all that you were raised with is gone.”

“Not everything,” I say.

Hubert looks at me sharply, a frown tightening his lips. I can tell instantly that he takes my meaning.

“You are delusional, Ferdinand. Everything that you lost in the war is still gone. You have not regained any of it. Whatever hope you might have is only the product of denial and not reality.”

“What do you mean?”

“My body might have survived, but my mind is gone. I will never have it back. And was it not my mind that you loved me for all those years ago?” He says the words so slowly and quietly that I find myself holding my breath as I listen.

I bite back the reply that it was all of him that I loved: his heart, his body, his words, his mannerisms. Of course he thinks I valued him for his mind. That is what Edelgard valued. His intellect and reason were what she depended on to accomplish her aims. Of course he does not realize that my respect and regard for him was different.

There is no sense in saying such things now.

“How can I help?” I ask.

The question catches him visibly off guard. “Help?”

“You say that your mind is torturing you, that it is dangerous for you to be alone in this state. Speaking to me of the painful past has only made you more distraught.” I point at his hands, which are clenched together to hide the shaking. “You look unhinged, Hubert, and this is not calming you. So let us set the past aside. I have little wish to discuss it either, especially given the fact you believe its consequences to be so inescapable. So how, in this moment, do I help you?”

“Why would you?” he asks.

“Because you asked me to.”

“I asked you to stay. That is all. Not to help.”

“Does my presence help you then?”

“It is a hindrance.”

“What?”

He tempers his statement by saying, “A hindrance to my psychosis escalating.”

“Ah. But surely there is more I can do. Can I brew you some more tea?”

Hubert is quiet for a long moment then unravels before my eyes. “Tea is not going to help. Nothing you can do will help! I was desperate and foolish asking you to stay. Leave me be. Go! I think you are right and speaking with you only makes the pain more acute.”

His constantly changing mind exhausts my patience and I move closer, staring at him fiercely. “No. I am going to help you. And if you will not tell me how, I will find a way myself.”

He hangs his head and clutches at the roots of his hair. The pace of his breaths quickens and a muted, strangled cry of frustration escapes his lips. Scrambling to his feet, he walks over to the table with the herbs and rips up the last of the valerian, jamming it into a cup of water. He brings it over to the hearth but when he tries to place it on the rack to heat, his unsteady hands slip and the mug tumbles into the oven, its content sloshing out across the coals. Steam hisses and Hubert gasps, reaching for the valerian roots.

I jump up and grab his hand before he can plunge it into the fire. “Stop! You will burn yourself!” I whisper insistently.

He yanks his hand out of my grasp and turns away, his whole body rigid. 

“Hubert,” I say. “There must be something else that will work other than the potion.”

“It doesn’t matter. This will be over soon. And I will need neither strength nor sanity once it is. I can just… rest.”

Against my better judgment, I step forward and put my hand on his shoulder. I expect him to stiffen but instead his rigid muscles relax under my touch. But he does not turn around to face me. He hides his face in his hands and stays where he is, neither avoiding nor seeking further contact.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you for hanging on this long, for doing whatever you had to do so that you could survive. Because now you have given us a chance to save Fódlan.”

“What do you want from me?” he asks hoarsely.

“I do not want anything from you, except for your help in defeating our enemy,” I answer.

His tone takes on an icy edge as he says, “You seek to help me, you offer compassion. You have since you rescued me. What do you want?”

“I told you. I don’t-”

Hubert turns around to face me, eyes narrowed in anger. “You speak of atoning for your guilt. Is this how you intend to do it? Am I your penance? Do you think by fixing me you will make up for abandoning your home and your family and the person who loved you more than-” He stops abruptly and a snarl twists one corner of his mouth. “I sought your help tonight out of weakness. And I’m sorry for it now. Kindness given out of shame is better not given at all.”

I reach for him again but this time he shies away from my touch and glares at me.

“Someone should keep watch over Juniper and I don’t want to be around her while I am in so volatile a state. Go guard her. Spend your compassion on someone who needs it,” he says coldly.

For a moment I hesitate, opening my mouth to speak but closing it when I am unable to find any words nor make sense of the tumultuous emotions in my heart.

“Goodnight, Hubert,” I say finally and turn on my heel and walk away.


	17. Unexpected Reinforcements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting shot out of the air in Goneril territory isn't so bad when it leads to a serendipitous reunion.

## 17 – Unexpected Reinforcements

###  **Felix**

“Felix! Felix!”

I squint my eyes open at Juniper and say, “Stop hitting me with that damn horse.”

“Wake up!” she insists, raising Percy to whack me again if I refuse. 

“I’m awake. What do you want?” I grumble, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. “It’s barely dawn.”

“We have to go! They’ve-” she begins.

“They’ve found us,” Hubert says, running back into camp from his post on the hilltop where he was keeping watch. 

He startles the others awake and Sylvain says, “What? How? You can’t exactly track wyverns!” 

“They have my blood and Juniper’s. It’s not out of the question they could use it to track us,” he says. “We simply outpaced them for a while by flying.”

“You could have mentioned that!”

“I’m mentioning it now,” he says.

“Anything else we should know?” I ask.

“We need to go.”

“How do you and Juniper sense when-”

“Magic,” he interrupts. “Get in the saddle or I will take the girl and leave without you.”

Sylvain scoops up Juniper and buckles her into the saddle harness then jumps up onto the wyvern behind her. Meanwhile, Ferdinand grabs our things, throws them in a saddle bag, and mounts his wyvern. 

I glare at Hubert. “How far off are they? How many of them are there?”

“I don’t know. I get a feeling they’re nearby not a fucking set of coordinates,” he growls, walking off towards Ferdinand’s wyvern.

I huff and run over to Valkyria, climbing up behind Sylvain. He snaps the reins and the beast leaps into the air, followed by Ferdinand’s wyvern.

Our ascent through the thick blanket of fog coating the moors leaves us damp and shivering and I take off my cloak and wrap it around Juniper then cling to Sylvain for warmth. A flash beneath us catches my eye and I glance down to see the fog below us roiling with violet light. 

“Shit!” I hiss. “Watch out. They’re underneath us!”

Sylvain slaps the reins and urges Valkyria to pick up her pace but before her wings can start to beat faster, a bolt of lightning slices through the mist and tears through the edge of her wing. Valkyria shrieks and falters for a moment, trying desperately to restabilize as the shocks spasm through her body. Blood drips across the spines of her wing and I panic, wondering if she will fall. But she keeps flying bravely.

Ferdinand swoops his wyvern down to allow Hubert a clear shot and he fires a pulse of dark magic in the direction of the lightning. But with the thick fog, we can’t see anything. They might be able to make out the hulking shadows of the wyverns through that but to see the small figure of a person from this height is a far trickier feat.

Hubert launches another spell, then stops, holding a writhing orb of magic in his hands but not releasing it. There is no point in expending magic without being able to see his target, I suppose.

“Can you reach her wing to heal it?” Sylvain asks me. “We can’t land!”

The idea of unstrapping myself from the harness is terrifying but I do it, drawing healing magic to my hands. “Keep hold of my legs!” 

Sylvain hands the reins to Juniper, saying, “Just hold her steady.”

I sling my leg over and Sylvain grabs my ankles, holding onto them tightly. Taking a deep breath, I steel my nerves for what I’ll need to do and the sheer amount of trust in Sylvain’s strong hands it’s going to take.

I make the mistake of looking down and the sight of the spinning, blurred ground so very far below us makes panic spike through me. I didn’t mind it strapped into the saddle, but like this where one slip of Sylvain’s hands and I would plummet to my death… 

Damn this. Damn me.

Fuck it!

“Hang on!” I shout and throw myself forward, swinging out into the rushing wind and grabbing hold of the bony spine of the wyvern’s wing. She screeches and rocks from side to side, thrown off balance by my weight. 

I hear Sylvain swearing in terror and begging Seiros to not let us die like this. Focusing on the healing spell, I reach out as far as I can until I touch the edge of Valkyria’s wing where the blood is flowing from. I just manage to start fusing the torn skin back together when another spell cuts through the air, flashing a hair’s breadth away from us, so close I can feel its heat singing my skin.

Valkyria panics and swoops upwards and for one horrifying second, I feel Sylvain’s grip on my ankles budge and my life flashes before my eyes. Then he readjusts and holds me firm. I hear Juniper pleading with Valkyria to calm down and the wyvern listens, leveling out again. Gritting my teeth with determination and trying not to throw up, I grab hold of the wing again and finish the healing spell.

“Pull me back!” I cry. 

Sylvain lifts me back into the saddle and I struggle to catch my breath, realizing that I’d been holding it in terror.

“Never,” Sylvain gasps. “Never do that again.”

“It was your idea!”

“Never let me let you do that again.”

“I won’t!”

Sylvain takes the reins from Juniper and says, “Good job.”

She jumps in fright and cries, “Hue! Ferdie!”

I glance over and see that their wyvern has been hit too. Hubert is firing spells down at the ground with one hand, clinging to Ferdinand for dear life with the other. Ferdie is trying to steer their wyvern to fly steady but its left wing is ripped and blood is splattered across its scales.

“We have to land!” Ferdinand says. “She can’t-”

Another bolting spell strikes them and Hubert casts a spell to block it, but the flash of light spooks their wyvern and it veers to the side, causing Hubert’s spell to miss its mark. The lightning hits the wyvern square in the chest and it shrieks and spasms violently, throwing Hubert from the saddle.

“NO!” Ferdinand screams and tries to catch him in vain. At the last second before Hubert falls into the blanket of fog, his body shimmers and vanishes with a mid-air warp spell.

“Ferdie!” Sylvain and Juniper both shout as Ferdinand’s wyvern struggles to keep flying. Its left wing is completely broken and it reels wildly in the air, trying to stabilize but failing.

Sylvain guides Valkyria to sweep down and try to catch Ferdie, but he can’t make it in time before the other wyvern screeches piteously and falls, hurtling towards the ground. Juniper screams and I hope to Seiros that Hubert can get to Ferdie in time with some gravity-defying, miraculous warp spell.

Instead, a violent blast of wind erupts in a column upwards from the ground, sweeping away the fog and hitting the plummeting wyvern and lifting it back into the air. The spell persists and through the tumult, I see a figure in the midst of it, arms outstretched, casting the powerful spell as it holds Ferdinand’s wyvern in place fifty feet from the ground. But it isn’t Hubert.

“Who is that?” I ask Sylvain, raising my voice to be heard over the storm.

“I don’t know!”

He steers Valkyria down to land and as she descends, we watch in astonishment as the spellcaster slowly decreases the fury of the wind, effectively lowering Ferdinand’s wyvern to the ground. When it finally collapses onto a mound of dirt and moss, Ferdinand stumbles out of the saddle, greeted by a man’s voice booming cheerfully, “Ferdinand von Aegir, you son of a bitch! Thank the goddess we saw you!”

“Oh goddess,” Sylvain says as Valkyria touches down on the ground a ways away from the wounded wyvern and we get a glimpse at the stranger.

He is a tall, muscular fortress of a man. He is not even clad in heavy armor, only black leather pants, tall black boots coated in mud, and a black shirt with a leather vest. His shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing the tattoos that cover his arms and I notice that the designs even extend up across his neck from under his collar. His long pink hair is bound up in a messy knot on his head and held together with a ruby-red jeweled hair clip that is completely out of place with the rest of his grim, fierce, dark-clothed aesthetic. It’s the stupid accessory that makes me realize who he is.

“Holst Goneril,” Sylvain whispers nervously.

Fuck. I know that tone. What did Sylvain do to piss off living legend Holst Goneril? Why does he look so scared?

Oh shit. Oh shit. The Hilda incident. The one that was definitely my fault but everyone blamed Sylvain for. The one that almost got Sylvain expelled from Garreg Mach. The one that ended with Hilda threatening to have her older brother lop his head off if he ever spoke to her again.

“Ugh!” a familiar high-pitched voice says indignantly. “Now I’m all sweaty!”

Hilda emerges from the fog, dragging the beheaded body of a full-grown man behind her as if it were no heavier than a shopping bag and holding a blood-stained axe in her other hand.

“Who is this and why are they trying to kill you, Ferdie?” she asks, dumping the body on the ground in front of him.

“What are you going to do? Hide?” I hiss at Sylvain.

He just mumbles, “Oh goddess…” again and climbs off of our wyvern. “Wait here, okay?” he whispers to Juniper and hands her the reins. “Just until I make sure it’s safe.”

As Holst seizes Ferdinand in a crushing hug followed by Hilda embracing him gingerly and giving him a peck on the cheek, Sylvain walks towards them and I follow behind him with my hand on the hilt of my sword, hoping I don’t have to intervene and fight Holst motherfucking Goneril himself just to save Sylvain’s stupid ass.

Well, on second thought, fighting him might be interesting. He would certainly be a worthy opponent. Maybe I should challenge him, just to see who's the better man...

No that's probably a bad idea.

Or is it?

“Hey,” Sylvain says, drawing out the word awkwardly and giving Holst a dumb wave and grin. “Thanks for saving our necks, buddy.”

Buddy? Did he just call the Hero of the Alliance ‘buddy’?

Oh Seiros. We’re going to die. He is going to die and, like an idiot, I will die with him, obligated as his husband to fight to the death for his honor.

“Sylvain?” Hilda says in disbelief. “Felix? What is going on? What are you all doing here?”

To Sylvain’s obvious relief, there is no hostility in her tone, just confusion.

Maybe we won’t die today. Maybe it is water under the bridge? I’m sure Hilda wouldn’t carry a grudge over a petty misunderstanding for nearly eight years. Hilda is too lazy to carry anything for that long.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Patrolling our territory,” she says. “You should be grateful we were passing by! Poor Ferdie here would have died!” She gives Ferdinand a pout of sympathy and pats his arm. “What are you doing out here with these two jerks?”

“Did you see anyone else?” Ferdinand asks, looking from Holst to Hilda anxiously.

“Just the three mages who attacked you,” Holst replies. “I killed two and Hilda finished off the third.” He gestures at the decapitated body of the Agarthan at their feet.

Ferdinand nods uneasily and I know what he is thinking. Where the hell is Hubert and is it safe for him to show himself around the Gonerils?

“Thank you for coming to our aid,” Ferdinand says, giving them both a short, courtly bow. “It is fortuitous indeed. We are greatly in your debt.”

“‘Fortuitous,’” Holst chuckles. “I’ve missed you, Ferdie, you dramatic little shit. Why haven’t you come to visit since the war ended?”

I look at Sylvain in confusion and he leans down and whispers, “Ferdie was really close with Hilda.”

Oh. Of course he was. Apparently Ferdinand was best friends with everyone during our school days except me. 

“I have been drowning in work. I apologize. I have missed you two as well,” Ferdinand says with a smile. “I wish our reunion were under more convenient circumstances but my friends and I are on an urgent mission and must continue on our way with utmost haste. I’m sorry.”

Hilda cocks her head to the side slightly and studies Ferdinand. “Are you hunting them?”

“Hunting who?” he asks.

“ _Them!_ You know… the Slithers.”

I almost snort at the nickname but thankfully manage not to.

Holst’s grin vanishes and he looks at Hilda with a grave expression. “They’re here?”

She gestures at the body. “He’s one of them. Go find the head if you doubt me. I’m sorry I hacked it off.”

“How do you know about them?” I ask.

“Claude, of course. He was researching them. But he thought they were wiped out in the war. Did some survive? Are you hunting them down?” she questions.

Holts looks around warily. “Let’s not talk here in the mist. Come with us.”

“We do not have time. We must continue on our way,” Ferdinand insists.

“With one wyvern?” he says. “Or are you intending to travel on foot? Come to our outpost and we will get you horses.”

Ferdinand glances at Sylvain and I, seeking our permission, and Sylvain nods.

“I’ll go get Juniper,” I say and walk away, leaving the four of them to make plans while I return to Valkyria.

“Who are they?” she asks. “They’re so loud.”

“Gonerils,” I mutter, unbuckling her from the saddle and lifting her down. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says. “Where’s Hue?”

“That’s an excellent question. Come on. Come meet our new friends. They’re very ‘shiny.’ You’ll hate them,” I tell her. “But they won’t hurt us. They’re on our side.”

She raises the hood of my cloak to shroud her face and because it seems to offer her emotional protection from the disturbing prospect of meeting strangers, I allow her to keep it even though the edges of it drag through the mud behind her as she walks.

The moment Hilda lays eyes on Juniper she turns to Sylvain furiously. “You brought a child with you on a dangerous mission? A child? You monster!”

He throws his hands up in surrender and says, “We just rescued her. We didn’t intentionally bring her along.”

“Oh Seiros,” Hilda swears then walks over and kneels down in front of Juniper. “You poor sweetheart, being stuck with these silly men! Are you alright? What’s your name?”

“Juniper,” I answer for her, knowing that she is probably too overwhelmed to speak.

Hilda reaches out to give her a hug and Juniper backs up a step, tripping over my feet.

I catch her and lift her up into my arms. She doesn’t cling to me in fear, but she does lean against me and stare suspiciously at Hilda.

“Aw, you’ve had a scary day, haven’t you?” Hilda croons. “It’s gonna be okay, sweetie. We’ll get you somewhere safe.”

“Fuck off, Hilda. She doesn’t like strangers,” I say.

Hilda shoots me a look that could strike dead a man of fainter courage and points a finger in my face. “You’re on thin ice, Fraldarius. Watch your mouth.”

I glare back at her silently and unrepentantly until the sound of a gasp breaks our staring match and we both look over to see a tall, thin figure emerging from the mist, walking slowly towards us.

Hubert.

Ferdinand steps forward to meet him but Holst is quicker, jumping in front of him and raising his hand, white-hot flames leaping up in his palm.

“Who goes there?” Holst demands.

“Lower your hand. He’s not an-” Ferdinand begins but is interrupted as Holst curses in shock and anger when Hubert steps free of the fog.

Holst lunges towards him and Ferdinand grabs at his arm, but he wrenches it away effortlessly.

“Holst!” Sylvain yells at the same time as Ferdie shouts, “Wait!”

But Holst doesn’t hear them, lashing out with his flaming fist and slamming it into Hubert’s jaw.

“Hue!” Juniper cries.

To my surprise, Hubert makes no move to defend himself or strike back. He winces at the seared flesh on his cheek and wipes his mouth, his white glove coming away stained with a bit of blood.

“Hello, General Goneril,” he says politely. “Hilda,” he adds, looking over Holst’s shoulder to nod at her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Holst growls, his voice low and deadly.

“They said you died in Enbarr!” Hilda says.

“I might as well have,” he replies calmly. 

“He is helping us hunt down our enemies,” Ferdinand says, putting his hand on Holst’s shoulder entreatingly. “Please, do not hurt him. We need his help.”

“Hilda,” Sylvain warns, “We’ll explain everything. Just leave him alive.”

“Fine,” she says, a bit of a snarl twitching at her glossy pink lips. “He can keep his head on his shoulders… for now.”

“Thank you,” Hubert says and walks past them over to me where he looks at Juniper and asks, “Are you alright? You weren’t injured in the fight?”

She shakes her head and reaches out her arms. I hand her off to Hubert, knowing that the Gonerils are not going to attack him while he is carrying a child.

“Why did he hit you?” she whispers to him.

“Because I nearly killed his sister on the battlefield once,” he answers.

Juniper looks at Hilda and then back at him. “Why?”

“Because we were at war. But we are not enemies anymore.”

“Are we?” Holst asks, stepping closer. There are still flames clenched in his fist, even though his hand is lowered. 

“At the moment, yes. You mentioned an outpost and horses?” Hubert replies. “I would suggest we go there so we can explain everything in privacy.”

He glances over at the others and I follow his gaze to see Ferdie and Sylvain kneeling beside the fallen wyvern. Healing magic is glowing in Sylvain’s hands as he works to repair the damage before the beast loses too much blood.

“Let me help,” Holst says, motioning for them to move out of the way. He traces a complex spell rune in the air and faith magic flares brightly to life. 

As he heals the wyvern’s wing, I lean towards Hubert and murmur, “I thought he was an axe fighter. I thought all the Gonerils were.”

“He is, and yet still as deadly with magic as the most accomplished gremory and bishop. He has earned his reputation. Be on your guard around him.”

“I’m not the one who he wants dead,” I say.

“See to it that that remains the case then,” Hubert replies.

  
  


###  **Ferdinand**

“How much should we tell them?” I whisper to Hubert, falling into step beside him as we walk with the Gonerils to their outpost.

“I see no reason to withhold information from them. In fact, it would be worthwhile to hear what they learned from Claude. I always suspected his keen mind would have noticed that something dark was afoot and investigated it,” he says, respect evident in his tone.

“They do know this territory well and are both mighty warriors. If they were to help us in our mission, it would be a great boon for us.”

“We will at least need them to provide us with new mounts. He might have fused Halla’s wing bones back together, but she will not be able to bear weight for some time. We cannot travel further with her.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Juniper asks him. Hubert grew weary from carrying her after a mile and to my surprise, she let me carry her on my shoulders for once, although I think it was mostly to keep her distance from Holst and Hilda, who are talking animatedly with Sylvain and Felix. At the moment, Hilda is lecturing Sylvain about this year’s trend for wedding colors.

“Yes, Halla will recover. But it will take some time. Healing spells do not preclude recovery,” Hubert tells Juniper.

“Thank the goddess Holst was able to heal her. I do not know if Sylvain and I could have,” I say.

“I might have been able to,” Hubert says. “But I must reserve my magic. I am willing to ask for Holst and Hilda’s aid, but that does not mean we should lower our guard around them. The Alliance has always been a wild card. We know not what their agenda and priorities might be.”

“I trust Hilda,” I insist. “And Holst is a noble, lion-hearted man, despite his rough manner.”

“Even good people can become problems when they stand in your way,” he says. He glances at Juniper and says, “Do not be afraid of them. But stay on your guard. Do not tell them anything about yourself even if they ask you questions.”

It occurs to me as he speaks the warning that we know remarkably little about Juniper, other than that she is an orphan. Sylvain and Felix pressed him on the subject several times, trying to understand what experiments the Agarthans conducted with her. But Hubert always replied with vague, unhelpful answers.

I wonder what he knows.

When we reach the small fort tucked away in the moors along the border of Goneril and Hrym territory, a few guards gather around, rustling up food and hot tea with a dash of whiskey in it for us. For Holst there is a pot of pitch-black coffee and I notice that Hubert eyes it with longing.

“Might I have a cup?” I ask Holst.

“Go ahead, but it’s stale as old socks. I haven’t been able to get a fresh shipment in ages. Trouble with bandits on the roads,” he says. “You’re better off with tea.”

“I will take the coffee,” I say and thank him as he pours me some.

As we settle down around the hearth and Sylvain and Felix start relating the events of the past few weeks to Holst and Hilda, I slip the cup into Hubert’s hands without looking at him. He drinks it quietly and when the cup is empty and he sets it to the side, he brushes his hand against my knee. I glance over and as I make eye contact, he gives me a small nod of gratitude.

I smile faintly and turn my attention back to the conversation.

“There have been some fishy things happening around here lately,” Hilda says. “If what you say is true and the Slithers have a hidden base around here, it’d make a lot of sense. We’ve had supplies stolen from caravans and people disappear from towns on the outskirts.”

“With Hubert’s help, we mean to destroy their base so that they cannot launch their weapons on Fhirdiad,” Sylvain says.

“That’s a lot to swallow, kid,” Holst says, shaking his head. “But so is a lot of the crazy shit that has happened these past few years.”

“Has word been sent to Claude?” Hilda asks.

“I think so. We haven’t communicated with Dimitri and Byleth in a couple weeks,” Felix answers. “But even if Byleth didn’t request his aid, she still would have warned him what was going on.”

Hilda sighs. “I miss him so much. He’d have a much better plan than this insanity you four have come up with. But no, he’s gotta go off and start a revolution in another country and leave his best friend behind. I haven’t seen him in months. He never has time to visit.”

“He’s doing important work,” Sylvain says.

“Yeah, I know,” she replies sadly. “I just miss him. He’d know what to do.”

“We know what we have to do,” Hubert speaks up for the first time. “And although Claude’s strategies would no doubt have helped, our existing one is not without hope.”

“Well, it’s got a hell of a lot more hope now,” Holst says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Hilda and I are coming with you to Shambhala. If it has existed here by our territory this whole time undetected, then that is our failing and it’s our responsibility to remedy it. We’ll lend you our strength in taking it down.”

I glance at Hilda and she gives me a firm nod. “He’s right. And with my brother on your side, you’ll win for sure.”

“Thank you,” I tell her with a warm smile. “I am grateful we ran into you and after this is over, all of Fódlan will owe you their gratitude as well.”

Hilda laughs and says, “Oh Ferdie, I’ve missed you too. You make everything sound so serious. I mean, it is serious. But still…” 

“We should set out at once. Have you had enough to eat?” Holst asks us.

“One more cup of coffee would be appreciated,” I say.

He refills my mug and hands it back. Juniper, who has been sitting in Felix’s lap the whole time, gets up and wanders over to me. “Can I try some?” she asks, sniffing it curiously.

“You won’t like it,” Hubert warns her.

She takes the cup and sips it, immediately grimacing.

A faint laugh comes from Hubert so quiet that I think I am the only one who hears it. The sound makes my heart ache and I jump to my feet and walk to the other side of the room on pretense of fetching a glass of water so that no one will see the emotion my expression is surely betraying.

I never thought I would hear that laugh again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are you Holst headcanons? I imagine him kinda punky but there are so many amazing Holst depictions out there! He's such a fun character to imagine! What is your guys's impression of him based on what info we get from the game?


	18. The City of Unhindered Invention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang infiltrates Shambhala in search of the javelins of light and marvel at the ancient city unlike any they have ever seen.

## 18 – The City of Unhindered Invention

###  **Felix**

Juniper’s most lovable quality is that she has even less common sense than I do. I swear to Seiros, she looks ready at all times to throw fists with Holst if he so much as glares at Hubert. I’ve taken to riding next to Hubert just to assuage her worries a bit because she seems to get anxious when too close to Holst and Hilda and too far from Hubert. 

“You want me to heal that burn?” I ask him, gesturing at the seared skin on his jaw where Holst punched him.

Hubert shakes his head. “I imagine it brings Holst some satisfaction to see his small act of revenge and hopefully such comfort will prevent him from seeking out another.”

“Probably hurts like a bitch, though,” I say.

He shrugs. “It will hurt less than his axe embedded in my chest.”

“Hmph. Well, go ahead and suffer if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you for your permission,” he replies dryly. “I shall.”

I glance ahead of us where Hilda is riding between Sylvain and Ferdinand, going on about weddings again.

“I think Felix would look very handsome in a dark blue coat. He absolutely can’t wear that horrible teal color. It’s out of style,” she says. “And then if you wait for the summer you can have white roses.”

“We’re not having a wedding,” Sylvain asserts for the hundredth time.

“Nonsense. Of course you are. Weddings are excellent for the morale of the people. Everything is still so drab and depressing since the war ended. Give people an opportunity to celebrate! Give them pageantry and feasts! People love feasts. Right, Ferdie?” Hilda says.

Ferdinand hesitates then says, “I cannot deny that she has a point, Sylvain. As a noble, it is your duty to see to the emotional wellbeing of your community as much as its physical protection. If there is something you can do to raise their spirits and give them joy, you should consider it.”

Sylvain looks over his shoulder at me and says, “Felix, I think we’re having a wedding.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I want to see you in a dark blue coat,” he says.

“With silver trim,” Hilda adds.

“With silver trim,” Sylvain repeats. “And a hat.”

“No hats,” Hilda says. “Goddess, Sylvain, I thought you were a man of taste.”

“Okay, you don’t have to wear a hat,” he tells me.

“And a ceremonial sword,” Hilda says. “A magnificent one.”

“A sword?” I ask. “Is that a part of weddings?”

“If I buy you the finest sword in all of Fódlan will you marry me, Fee?” Sylvain asks.

“I’ll… I’ll consider it. But no wedding cake and no parades. And no speeches!”

“Ooo! What about a tournament? Jousting, sword duels, horsemanship challenges!” Hilda exclaims.

“A tournament is a splendid idea,” Ferdinand agrees. 

Juniper, who has been silent for the better part of the day, speaks up finally but she mumbles her words so quietly I can’t hear what she said.

“What was that?” I ask her.

“Can I come?” she says tentatively.

“Sure,” I reply. “I’ll train you to use a sword and you can fight in the tournament. I bet you can beat Sylvain’s lazy ass at least.”

“Felix!” Hilda reprimands.

“What? Let the kid do what she wants.”

To my relief, Holst’s wyvern emerges from the fog and lands gracefully on the ground in front of us, putting this inane conversation to an end.

“What did you find?” Ferdinand asks him.

“I went to those coordinates. Sure enough, there’s a door hidden away in a ravine.” Holst glances at Hubert. “Turns out you aren’t leading us on a wild goose chase after all.”

“That would be pointless. The geese have all flown south for the winter,” Hubert replies and I snort.

Hilda rolls her eyes. “You’re as bad as Felix.”

Despite the fact I did just laugh at his stupid quip, I bristle immediately at being compared to Hubert. But before I can fire back a reply, Sylvain says, “How far of a ride is it?”

“We will be there by nightfall,” Holst answers.

“Good. The sooner we get this over with, the better,” Hilda says somberly. “There’s too much at stake to hesitate.”

After that, we continue on our way in silence, even Hilda looking remarkably introspective. I suppose she isn’t entirely the annoying schoolgirl she used to be, the same as I’m not the annoying schoolboy I once was.

As twilight begins sinking over the sky, Sylvain rides over next to me and gives me an encouraging smile. Then he says, “Hey Juniper. How’re you holding up?”

She looks up at him with those big serious eyes of hers and says quietly, “I’m hungry.”

Sylvain reaches into his saddlebag and fishes out a strip of dried meat, then hands it to her. With a tiny smile, she takes it and munches on it happily.

“How about you?” he asks me and I can see the tension behind his brave face.

“Ready for a fight,” I answer. “You? Still thinking morbid thoughts about us dying young?”

“At least I’d die beautiful,” he says with a shrug.

“I’d rather you die old and ugly.”

“You think I’ll be ugly when I’m old? I always imagined I’d be very dignified and elegant.”

“You’ve never looked dignified a day in your life. I don’t think fifty years is going to change that,” I answer.

“What do you think, Juniper?” he asks. “Will I be ugly when I’m old and gray?”

“You are old,” she says.

“Thanks, kiddo.”

“Sylvain,” I cut in. “Stop joking around. Don’t be reckless in there but don’t be afraid either. We’ve got this, alright?”

He nods distractedly, glancing away to survey the last dying embers of the sunset lining the silhouettes of the mountains.

A couple miles from the location of the entrance to Shambhala, we dismount and hide our horses.

“There only seems to be the one entrance,” Holst says. “Creating a distraction at one end and skirting around to the back isn’t going to work. Hilda suggested we get our hands on some of those beaked masks and see how far that takes us. I think that’s our best bet. Once we are through the gates, we can take it room by room and snipe anyone we encounter before an alarm can be raised.”

“We will not need to go far. They will risk keeping such volatile weapons close to the heart of their center where an accidental explosion would cripple them. They will be stored on the outskirts. And once we are in the city, I should be able to pinpoint their exact location without difficulty,” Hubert replies.

“How?” Holst asks.

“They give off a very keen aura of energy that I know how to sense,” he answers.

The whole thing seems a bit sketchy to me but none of us know anything about the Agarthans so how can we question him on it? All we can do is keep a close eye on Hubert and be on the lookout for treachery. Considering the fact that Holst trusts him even less than we do, I think we’ll be fine in that regard.

“How do we get the masks?” Sylvain asks.

“I saw a patrol of guards near the entrance. If we can take them out swiftly, they will be our ticket in,” Holst replies.

“One more thing,” Hilda speaks up. “I’m staying here with Juniper. I can guard her. Taking her on this journey is one thing; walking into an enemy stronghold where she could get caught in the crossfire is another.”

To my surprise, it is Hubert who nods in agreement. “It is dangerous to bring her into Shambhala, but anywhere she goes is highly dangerous. They want to recapture her even more than they do me. If you stay here with her, Hilda, you will need to be prepared for the fact that they could find you and strike you at any moment. Are you willing to take that risk?”

She looks at him with eyes narrowed in anger, but her tone is even as she answers, “Of course. She’ll be safe with me.”

Juniper tugs on my sleeve and says, “Felix! Don’t leave me behind! Please! Please!”

I look from her to Hilda, trying to judge how much I trust Hilda. I saw her fight in the battle of Derdriu where she decimated an entire battalion single-handedly without batting an eyelash. But still… guarding Juniper takes more than battle strength. It takes caution and alertness.

When I don’t immediately reply, Juniper runs over to Hubert and stares up at him pleadingly. “Don’t leave me here.”

He crouches down to her height and holds out his hand. With a trembling chin and big eyes, she reaches out and takes it.

“I understand that you don’t want to be left behind. But you must also understand that we do not want to risk your life anymore than we already have,” he says, his tone low and gentle, each word spoken with care. “We are not leaving you behind because you aren’t strong enough. We are keeping you safe because you are precious to us.”

I glance at Hilda and Holst and see them watching him with wary surprise and perhaps just a hint of respect.

Juniper bows her head to stare at the ground but her hysterical manner calms and her chin stops trembling with the effort to restrain tears. Instead she lets a couple slip down her cheeks in defeat. “I don’t want to be alone,” she says.

“You must be brave and trust that we will return,” he says solemnly. “I know you are capable of such bravery.”

“Don’t let them get you.”

“I will not allow that to happen. You have my word.”

Juniper nods then she dives forward and throws her arms around Hubert’s neck, hugging him. His eyes widen with astonishment and he stiffens, but doesn’t push her away. Instead he pats her back awkwardly and looks at me for help. With a nod, I walk over and pick up Juniper.

“I don’t think Hue likes hugs,” I whisper in her ear.

“Neither do I,” she replies, wrapping her arms around me and hugging me too.

“Yeah me either. Hugs are the worst,” I say, holding onto her tightly as she leans her head on my shoulder.

After a moment, I set her down on her feet and give her a soldier’s salute. “Keep guard of our horses and if Hilda annoys you just tell her to be quiet.”

Hilda shoots me a glare but as Juniper says goodbye to Sylvain and Ferdinand, I pull her aside and say, “Thank you for staying with her. Sincerely, thank you. Don’t let your guard down for one moment, though. They’re after her and this place is probably crawling with the bastards.”

“Are you telling me to not slack off?” Hilda says, arching an eyebrow at me. 

“Look, I know you’re a strong fighter,” I tell her. “But this is different. That kid is stubborn as hell. Don’t let her give you the slip and run off. Alright?”

“What’s her deal?” Hilda asks.

“She was held prisoner by the Agarthans along with Hubert. They killed her family and experimented on her. We found her locked in a damp, dark cell. And she wasn’t a sweet kid hugging people when we found her. She was cold as ice. Don’t jabber at her and make her retreat back into her shell.”

Hilda swears under her breath and glances at Juniper with a heartbroken look. “Just like Lysithea… Poor thing.” She looks back at me and nods firmly. “I’ll take care of her. In return make sure you have Holst’s back, okay?”

“I doubt he needs someone to have his back.”

“No matter how strong you are, you always need a friend,” she says. “Claude always seemed like he didn’t need backup either, but when I stepped up to be his second-in-command, he became a lot stronger than he already was. So shut up and look out for Holst.”

“I will,” I answer.

“Good. Ferdie will be distracted looking out for Hubert, and Sylvain I just don’t trust. So I’m appointing you Holst’s official backup. Don’t let me down, Fraldarius, or there will be hell to pay.”

I nod and walk back to the others, giving Juniper a pat on the head and saying goodbye again, promising to haul Sylvain, Hubert and Ferdie out of there single-handedly if they are all idiots and get injured. The kid seems genuinely reassured by the preposterous promise I’d meant as a joke and I wonder if she believes me to be actually capable of that. 

“Here, take this,” Hilda tells her brother, holding out her giant relic axe Freikugel.

Holst looks at her with a fond smile and shakes his head. “I gave it to you, sunshine. You earned it fair and square.”

“I know, but I am loaning it to you. Give me your axe.”

Holst hesitates, then takes Freikugel from her. “Thanks.” He straps the axe onto his back then grabs Hilda and lifts her off the ground in a hug. “Take care, sis.”

He sets Hilda down and she smiles and punches his arm fondly, saying, “Go save the world.”

Without further ado, we set out on foot towards the base of the Hrym mountains and, sure enough, by nightfall we find ourselves hunkered down behind a rocky outcropping, watching the patrol of dark mages filing out of the doors of Shambhala. To my relief, there are only ten of them. That will be quick work for us. 

“Do you three know any long-range magic?” he asks Sylvain, Ferdie and me. 

We shake our heads. “Just healing magic,” Sylvain says.

“I don’t have any magic,” Ferdie says.

Holt frowns. “Everyone has great amounts of magic inside them. Most just don’t know how to channel it into spells. That’s a pity.” He looks at Hubert. “I guess it’s up to you and me.”

Hubert nods. “I will cast Mire to entrap them. I trust you have a spell with a wide enough radius to kill them all in one blow before they can call the alarm. Do not be afraid to use fire. The reason they wear the black cloaks and masks is to shield them from magic. They will not be disintegrated in a blast.”

“In that case Abraxas should do the trick,” Holst says.

Sylvain looks at him with amazement. “You can cast Abraxas?”

“Yeah, Lysi taught me. It’s a good one to have up my sleeve,” he replies nonchalantly.

“Ready your magic. I will cast on the count of four and you on five,” Hubert says.

Holst nods and closes his eyes in concentration. I can practically feel energy radiating from him after a second.

“Go,” he whispers.

Hubert raises his hands, an orb of dark purple clenched between them. He takes a deep breath then says, “One, two, three, four-” He flings the orb up into the sky and instantly it evaporates and reappears above the guards, drowning them in writhing, oozing clouds of magic. “Five.”

A pillar of light crashes down on the Agarthans and explodes outwards, engulfing the entire group. We bolt from our hiding place and race over to them and what we find makes me both awe-struck and slightly nauseated. The flesh has been melted from their bodies as if it were no more than wax and the blackened skeletons left behind are broken and twisted. The cloaks and masks have remained for the most part but they are charred and torn in places. 

“Fucking hell,” Sylvain murmurs.

Ferdinand doesn’t look particularly affected by the sight and I wonder if growing up in Adrestria, a country where magic is practiced far more freely than in Faerghus, has desentized him to such things. That’s an unsettling thought.

“Here you go,” he says, handing me one of the masks.

I strap it onto my face and gag at the stench of burnt flesh. 

“Yes, it is not particularly pleasant, is it?” he says and puts on his own.

I hear Sylvain sigh behind his mask and mutter, “Back underground.”

Prying the door open, we step inside. But it is not a damp, pitch-black mineshaft that greets us like the entrance to the laboratory. Instead, we find ourselves in a long corridor, immaculately clean and lit by strange glowing lines of light tracing down it. The hall is carved in perfect ninety-degree angles, with high-vaulted ceilings and walls and floor made of some kind of sleek black metal. 

“How can such technology exist unbeknownst to the outside world?” Ferdie marvels.

“The Agarthans are an ancient civilization, and yet far advanced to our own,” Hubert says. “Imagine if all of Fódlan had such technology. Instead we are still lighting our halls with lanterns and our common people are living in wooden houses with crumbling thatched roofs. That is the cost we have paid for allowing a church to reign that seeks to halt scientific innovation and keep its people crippled by poverty so they are easily controlled.”

His little rant, delivered dispassionately and yet with deep conviction, takes me aback. Even though I have no strong feelings on religion and consider Rhea to be an untrustworthy bitch, it feels strange to hear the church censured like that. I wonder what Byleth would think.

To my surprise, Holst nods. “It is a shame. Claude was very nearly expelled from Garreg Mach for his experiments. He was told that science had no place in religion. The Almyrans don’t have the same qualms and that’s what has made them a tricky enemy to fight all these years. Thank the goddess Nader and I’ve been able to broker some peace. If they had continued to advance, I don’t know how long steel swords and bows and arrows could have fended them off.”

“Light without fire is only a taste of their technology,” Hubert says. “Let us hope we do not have to encounter any of the deadlier capacities of it.”

He sets out in the lead down the hall and we follow along, weapons drawn but hidden beneath the wraithlike cloaks. At the end of the corridor we encounter a cohort of guards but they die within seconds to Hubert and Holst’s spells. I am beginning to feel extraneous and I can’t help but wish I had given a shit about reason and faith in school. I always figured that I was made to wield a blade not fire spells, but if what Holst says is true and we all have magical capacity just no training, I see now that my excuses weren’t valid.

All I can do is hope it comes to a close combat fight so I don’t have to follow along uselessly letting the Hero of the Alliance hog all the glory as he is probably used to doing.

When this is over, that man owes me a duel. I don’t really have any objection to his personality or character, nor would I call him arrogant, but I still think he needs to be taken down a peg. And if I can’t, who can?

“It doesn’t have a keyhole,” Sylvain says, studying the door. It isn’t a stone one made to blend into the mountain like the outdoor entrance. This one is formed of the same sleek metal with hardly a seam visible.

“Out of the way,” Hubert says, gesturing at him impatiently. Grabbing one of the guards, he drags him over and places his palm on a square in the center of the door. Swiftly and silently, the door recedes into the wall, revealing an antechamber on the other side, lined with many different doors.

The second we have a clear view of it, Holst and Hubert fire their spells and take down the group of Agarthans within. Sick of inactivity, I race into the room right behind the tide of magic and strike down the couple dark-cloaked figures remaining. As their bodies fall to the floor, Holst walks past me and chuckles quietly.

“Are we wounding your pride, Fraldarius?” he says.

I bristle and glare at him, even though he can’t see my face. “Shut up.”

“You’ll have plenty of opportunities to prove your strength later, I’m sure. Might as well save your energy until then. I doubt we are making it out of here without a square fight at one point,” he replies, his teasing tone replaced with an earnest one.

“Do you know which direction we should head?” Sylvain asks.

Hubert and Holst and I turn around to look at him. He is standing stock still in the center of the room.

“Sshh,” he hisses. “Let me focus.”

For a long minute we wait, then Hubert walks over to a door on the left side of the room and says, “This way. Follow me.”

As we pass through several more corridors and rooms with surprising ease, swiftly felling each Agarthan we encounter, I get the sense that are skirting around the edge of the city, for we haven’t yet come to any open streets or buildings. It’s just a barely-populated maze like an abandoned rabbit burrow.

But after a little less than an hour of this cautious advance, we come to a door before which Hubert hesitates.

“It’s on the other side.”

“What exactly is?” Holst says.

“The trigger. The weapons themselves are hidden somewhere else. It would be too dangerous to keep the detonator and weapon in the same room, for their magic could ignite each other. We need only take the trigger and escape. But there will be a formidable amount of guards in here. Ready your weapons. We will not just be fighting creatures of flesh and blood.” Hubert turns to Holst and says, “No spells this time while the trigger is in the room. We cannot risk our magic reacting with it.”

With a nod, Holst withdraws his mighty axe and grips it firmly in both hands.

Walking over to one of the corpses in the room, Ferdinand slices off its arm and carries it over to the door. “Ready?” he asks us.

We all nod and he places the palm against the key square on the door.

Our disguises give us just enough time to survey the room. It is three times the size of any we have seen yet, filled with tables upon which mages are working on various devices. And surrounding them are a host of masked soldiers – about thirty total.

Just as I finish taking stock of things, Hubert vanishes and materializes on the far side of the room where a glowing crystal the size of a skull rests on a pedestal. Before anyone can react, he grabs it and warps back to us.

Then the second of shock passes and all hell breaks loose.

A host of spells rains down on us like a lightning storm, barely rebuffed by Hubert and Holst's magic shielding us. And as Sylvain, Ferdie and I plunge into the chaos to fight, we are forced to skid to a stop right before reaching the nearest guards. Because through the smoke and clouds of dark magic, a shadow looms above us, followed by the cranking sound of gears moving and armor clanking.

The ground trembles beneath our feet, and out from the haze steps a Titanus.


	19. Hubert's Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hubert takes the trigger for the javelin of light and flees, Ferdinand realizes that there is more to Hubert's plan then he let on and that he might have, yet again, let his feelings for Hubert make him blind to betrayal.

## 19 – Hubert’s Plan

###  **Ferdinand**

Yelling battle cries, Sylvain and Felix charge at the Titanus and Holst follows close behind them, Freikugel’s great serrated head cutting a bloody swath through the nearest Agarthans. 

Right before I can join them, Hubert grabs my arm and says, “I must get this far away from them! I’m going to warp out. It will draw some of them away from here as well. Meet me outside the city! I will wait for you to come before I fire the weapon. But I can’t risk staying here with the trigger.”

My heart plummets as it occurs to me that this could be his moment for betrayal, that he could flee Shambhala and fire the weapon to level it while we are still inside, taking out the Agarthans and Dimitri’s two right-hand generals all in one fell swoop. But I also cannot deny the objective truth that we must get that crystal as far away from here as possible.

The indecision that paralyzes me for a moment passes when I look into his eyes.

“Go,” I tell him. “We will hold them off long enough for you to escape then come after you.”

“I will wait for you,” he swears then vanishes, warping out of the room.

Some of the Agarthans scream in fury and warp after him, causing Holst to look back over his shoulder.

“WHERE IS HE?” he roars.

“Trust him!” I shout and race to his side, burying the head of my lance in the body of a soldier converging on us.

“Trust him?” Holst yells, leaping out of the way of dark spikes and beheading its caster. “Are you insane?”

“We have no choice now!” I cry and dodge a fire spell.

I turn away from him to Sylvain and Felix who have reached the base of the Titanus and are struggling to find an opening to attack. With its huge shields and colossal blade, it seems impossible to get close enough.

As Holst methodically takes down the Agarthans, clearing space around Felix and Sylvain, I rack my brain to think of how we can defeat the monolith. We fought one in Fhirdiad years ago and it was the Sword of the Creator that had taken it down in the end. Will our wits and strength be able to this time? Holst and Sylvain have their hero’s relics, but Felix and I are armed only with normal weapons.

The Titanus swings its blade at Felix, who blocks it with his own. The power of his crest allows him to hold his ground as he defends himself, but he will not be able to avoid the creature’s strikes forever.

A glitter in the corner of my eye as a mage lunges at Holst wielding a Levin sword sparks an idea in my mind. As Holst cuts the man down, I run and grab the blade off the ground. “When I give you the signal, strike the beast with your strongest wind spell! Knock it off balance. Then strike this blade with a Thoron blast!” I tell Holst.

“What are you doing?” he asks but I do not have time to answer.

“Keep it distracted!” I shout to Sylvain and Felix.

The Levin sword’s lightning fades in my hands, for I do not know how to keep it burning with my own energy. But I do not need it to channel my magic when we have Holst here. 

Skirting around behind the Titanus, I strike down a couple of the Agarthans that descend on me and run closer to the mechanical beast, avoiding the edge of its shield and its crushing feet stomping back and forth as it defends against Sylvain and Felix’s attacks and strikes back. 

It is terrifying to get so close to it, where a mere thrust of its sword or swing of its arm could snap my neck. But I trust my own speed and I leap into action swiftly and unhesitatingly, throwing myself forward and rolling under its shield, squeezing into the gap between the shield and its body.

Clenching the hilt of the Levin sword in my teeth, I jump up and catch hold of the creature’s arm with both hands. It notices me finally and reacts, swinging its arm around to try to fling me off. But I grip it with every shred of strength I have and manage to hang on. When it pauses for a moment, I pull myself up onto its armor-plated arm limb and leap forward to seize hold of its body. Grabbing the Levin sword with one hand, I reach up and plunge it deep into a gap between its plates of armor near its neck.

“Holst! Thoron!” I scream and leap to the ground, landing in a combat roll to break my fall. A second later, lightning blinds my eyes as he strikes the exposed hilt of the Levin sword. The weapon blazes and crackles as it is overcharged with energy. It cannot hold that powerful of magic within it and it explodes, sending shards of steel and blasts of lightning straight into the Titanus’s core.

The shock causes the beast to grind to a halt and Sylvain and Felix seize their chance, darting past its defenses to strike at its legs. They hack their way through the armor until the legs snap and the creature tumbles to the ground. But I cannot get free of its range as it falls and the shudder that heaves through the ground throws me off my feet. I try to roll out of the way but the edge of the beast’s shield comes crashing down on my arm and I feel the bone snap. Pain explodes in my mind, but I persevere through it, forcing myself to my feet and staggering away.

Holst casts a fire blast straight at the creature’s head that blows its helmet off. Its armor hissing and crumbling, the Titanus shuts down and falls limp, surrounded by a wake of corpses.

“Time to go!” Sylvain yells, running for the door. We follow and are met outside by more mages, which we make short work of. I am too turned around to remember the way out but thankfully Sylvain is good at keeping a map in his head and he leads us confidently through the labyrinth of passageways.

“Where’s Hubert?” Felix growls. “Did he flee?”

“He will meet us outside in the mountains. He could not let them take the crystal back! It is too important,” I answer.

“Likely story! We need to find that bastard. Immediately.”

“Ferdinand,” Holst says. “How badly are you hurt?”

“It is only my arm. You can heal it once we are safely out of here. I can hold on until then!” I answer. 

I grit my teeth against the pain and keep running. Finally we reach the corridor leading to the exit and to my relief, we find it empty of guards. As we approach the door, Holst blasts it open with a wind spell and we race out into the moonlight.

But as soon as we step outside, the valley outside erupts in motion, magic and yells. They were waiting to ambush us.

“Ferdie!” Sylvain says. “You’ve got to go find Hubert! We can’t let him get away with that weapon.”

“I will not leave you!” I protest.

“You can’t fight with a broken arm. Even if we healed it, it will be too weak to wield a lance. Go while you can! We will hold them off! Find him and keep him from escaping with it.”

It makes me feel ill to leave them to face the horde of Agarthans alone, but I am also terrified by the idea of Hubert being alone with such a powerful weapon. With all my heart, I want to trust him, but I have been fooled too many times because of my feelings for him. I cannot allow that to happen again. And Sylvain is right; my arm renders me shamefully useless.

“You took down a fucking Titanus!” Sylvain yells. “Your job is done! Go!”

I give in and run, casting a glance over my shoulder to see the three of them charging into the fray. Flames erupt across Freikugel, lighting the dark with eerie red light and the sight reassures me a bit. I have seen the power of the Apocalyptic Flame before. With warriors as strong as Sylvain and Felix at his side, Holst Goneril will surely carry the day.

Focusing on navigating the gravelly trail leading up the side of the ravine, I leave behind the pandemonium below. Thankfully it is a cloudless night and the light of the moon and stars is strong. By the time I have reached the top and run out into the open hills, the sound of the fight in the ravine has faded to a distant, muffled roar.

I shout Hubert’s name and hope with an aching heart that what he said about meeting us outside the city was not a lie. If he did mean to betray us, what hope would we have of finding him? And yet if his plan was to attack Shambhala while we were trapped within it, would he not have already?

“Hubert?” I call.

I catch sight of an approaching figure and although it is merely a shadow in the night, I would know that tall silhouette anywhere.

“Hubert!”

“Ferdinand?” he says, breaking into a run towards me. “You are injured. Give me your arm.”

“The others are outside the doorway fighting. We were ambushed!” I gasp. “We must go help them.”

“All three of them are outside of the city?” he asks urgently. He sets down the crystal and traces a healing spell rune in the air and then takes my broken arm gently in his hands.

I gasp in pain as the bone knits back together, feeling lightheaded.

“We must help them,” I say again.

“I have to finish this before it is too late,” he replies. “There is no time to hesitate. I have waited longer than I’d like just so that you could be free of the radius.”

“Are you certain that they will not be caught in the blast?” I ask.

Hubert stares at me and in the dim light, I cannot read his expression. “You are not my enemy anymore. And I owe you a great debt for aiding me in this mission. You have my word they will not be harmed by the blast.”

For a moment, I consider trying to restrain him just to be safe. We can wait to launch the weapon until we are further away. To let Hubert fire it now is to place a lot of faith in him and even if I feel inclined to, should I make that decision for Felix and Sylvain and Holst? There is too much at stake if I am wrong.

“Hubert-” I begin but stop as he steps closer. I can see his expression better now and it is grim and strained with pain.

He reaches out and cups my cheek in his hand and I freeze, gazing back at him in astonishment.

“You have made it out through all of this darkness and bloodshed and have managed to still be a good man,” he says hoarsely. “I have been glad to see that.”

His words, spoken so sincerely and yet heavy with sorrow, alarm me and I open my mouth to ask what is wrong with him, but before I can speak, he whips his other hand up, palm facing outwards, and casts a silence spell. The red chains of the restraining magic wrap around my chest and I try to cry out but no sound escapes my lips.

He withdraws a thick leather cord from his pocket and binds my wrists, then shoves me down onto my knees and binds my ankles as well. As the silence spell wears off, I struggle against the fastenings, but I cannot break free, especially with my newly-healed arm still weak.

“Please,” I beg. “Do not do this, Hubert. You do not need to turn on us. We can fight this enemy together!”

He crouches down in front of me and looks at me sadly. “I am sorry to betray your faith in me. It was always unearned. I have never deserved your kindness, Ferdinand. I hope you will bestow it on more deserving subjects from now on.” He reaches out and brushes my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear and I stare up at him pleadingly.

“Do not do this,” I say.

“Don’t interfere. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will not let anything stop me,” he replies and stands up, walking away.

He picks the crystal back up and carries it a few yards away, where he kneels down and sets it on the ground again. Placing both of his palms on its glowing surface, he closes his eyes and concentrates.

“Hubert!” I shout but he ignores me.

As his magic connects with the trigger, it begins to crackle with lightning and flame. Tendrils of magic twist out from it, snaking around Hubert’s wrists and crawling up his arms. He gasps then clenches his teeth and grips the crystal harder.

A glow in the sky causes me to look up and I see strange rings of light appearing, strengthening with every passing moment.

Hubert cries out in pain and I look back at him to see that the tendrils have spread across his whole body and are piercing into his skin like needles. They light up with eerie violet light and Hubert writhes in their grip, but does not let go of the crystal.

Holding my breath, I wait for the spell to finish and the tendrils to withdraw. But instead they flare brighter and one snakes over to his chest, plunging straight into his heart. The visceral agony it causes him is impossible to watch and I thrash against my bonds to no avail.

I have to stop this! There must be another way. This spell will kill him. I cannot watch as it saps the life from him like this.

The rings in the sky begin to pulse and a huge beam of light builds inside them, growing into a giant spear aimed down at the mountain under which Shambhala resides.

A scream tears from Hubert’s throat and the noise causes something buried deep within me to break free. Heat ignites painfully within my core and for a second it feels like it will tear me apart from the inside. Then it courses out through my arms and flames spring to life in my hands, burning away my bonds. Grabbing my fallen lance, I cut the cord restraining my ankles and push myself up off the ground.

“No!” Hubert gasps – a horrible, ragged, dying noise. “It’s almost-”

I stagger over to him and drop down to my knees. He watches with panicked eyes as I seize the crystal, placing my palms over his. I know not what I am doing, but I focus all the power of my will on a single intention: to lend what energy I have to his. This spell will kill him; of that I am certain. I saw it in his eyes as he tied me up. His words were a farewell, and that farewell was his betrayal. 

But I will be damned if I lose him again!

The emotion within me burns along with the fire of magic raging in my core and I push it outwards, through my hands and into the crystal. The tendrils of dark magic burst from it and seize hold of me, stabbing through my skin. They feel like invisible fingers closing around my heart and gripping it in a vise and the pain of it is unlike any I have experienced before.

I hear a pathetic whimper and realize that it is my own. But I do not let go; I do not break the spell.

The spear of light burns with the intensity of a dying star and hurtles down from the sky, striking deep into the heart of the mountain. A great thundering roar mixes with the sound of shattering earth and the spear pierces its way further and further into the city below the ground. 

I try to focus on the sight, but the grip of the magic is squeezing the air from my lungs and wringing the very life from my body. The tendrils dig deeper into my body and I almost black out from the agony. But I hang onto consciousness and as the distant light of the spear fades, the tendrils begin to ease their grip. 

The crystal burns hotter until it sears the skin on my palms. Then it trembles and shatters. The blast throws me back and slams me into the dirt and the whole world spins as I feel my body and soul freed from its chains. 

I can barely breathe, barely think, but I push myself up and look for Hubert. He is slumped on the ground a few feet away and I arduously drag myself over to him. I try to gasp his name, but my throat is too torn to speak. 

Finally I reach him and try to feel for his pulse to reassure myself that he is alive, but my hands are too weak and trembling. Where a moment ago a great fire existed within me, there is now only an aching cold void, as if my very spirit has been hollowed out of my body.

I hold on for a few seconds more then collapse, my consciousness slipping away into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made Ferdinand a dark knight class on my recent playthrough and he looked like such a badass I loved it. I know canonically hes not great at magic but he can do anything he puts his mind to, right? He's Ferdinand von Aegir!  
> Anyways thank yall for reading this far into this hella long story and for all the kind comments! You make writing this so much more fun! Hope yall are staying safe and healthy during these crazy times! <3


	20. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: 
> 
> \- Ferdinand indulges in a liberating bit of profanity.
> 
> \- Sylvain talks Felix into more 'thank the goddess we're alive' sex.
> 
> \- Felix tries to figure out what the hell is wrong with his brain.

##  20 – Aftermath

###  **Ferdinand**

Cold. 

Golden sunlight surrounds me, heavy wool blankets envelop me, but nothing can touch the cold inside me. I can feel it, heavy, aching, a shard of ice tucked in my chest right between my lungs. My muscles ache from shivering.

My eyes are too heavy to open, my limbs too stiff to move.

There is a voice somewhere in the distance, familiar but indistinct.

Large callused hands brush my hair out of my face and tie it behind my head. A cup presses against my lips, hot but not burning. The taste of tea in my mouth honey-sweet, momentary respite from the ache in my throat that makes it hard to breathe, momentary warmth.

But the ice remains. The cold remains.

“Ferdie. You waking up, buddy?”

No. It is too cold. Why is Faerghus so cold, Sylvain?

I cannot open my eyes, cannot stir my frozen body. My mind slips away.

  
  


The sunlight that glowed beyond my eyelids earlier is gone. I can feel the dark and the chill in the air, held barely at bay by a shield of blankets.

A sigh, a small hand clasping mine.

“Oh Ferdie, you really did it, huh? Not even Holst can heal you. I thought Holst could do anything. You better not die on me, though! We’ve barely had any time to catch up on this visit! So hang on, okay? You owe me for hauling your half-dead ass out of there. You can’t die on me. Okay?”

Another sigh. 

I’m sorry, Hilda.

  
  


Low, murmured voices. Not talking at me. Talking to each other.

“Hue is awake. Why isn’t he?”

“I don’t know. But he’ll wake up. We just have to be patient.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I know plenty of physically strong warriors, many of them a lot more powerful than Ferdie. But he’s got a strong spirit. I think for things like this, that matters more than anything.”

“Felix?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry I said he was too shiny.”

“Don’t be. It’s the truth. He’s way too loud and bright.”

“Hilda and I saw him. He tried to save Hue.”

“I know.”

“I wish we’d found them sooner. I could have helped.”

“Helped?”

“They said that was what I was for. That’s why they gave me magic.”

“The Agarthans were going to use you to fire one of those things? Those bastards! They probably didn’t want to sacrifice one of their own.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help him.”

“He wouldn’t have wanted you to help him. That’s why he made you stay with Hilda. He probably knew you would try and he didn’t want to risk hurting you. He cares about you a lot, kid. We all do.”

Something soft and a bit scruffy is tucked by my cheek.

“Don’t give him Percy. It got rained on and now it’s all scruffy. It needs to be washed.”

“Ferdie likes horses.”

“Yeah but Percy smells.”

“So do horses.”

“Alright. You got me there.”

They keep talking – tones of concern, small gentle arguments, faint laughs. Then they fall silent and the attention holding me to reality fades.

  
  


I neither hear nor see a presence beside me, but I feel it. Somehow I feel it.

A flutter of light sweeping past my closed eyelids. A beam of warmth.

“That is not going to help him. He will be cold as ice until his magic returns.”

Hubert?

I try to shift and stir but my body still feels too lifeless to move.

“Who knew Ferdie had magic.”

“We all have magic. Even you, Hilda, should you ever apply yourself to learning it.”

“I don’t need it when Holst is around.”

“He won’t always be around.”

“Are you threatening him?”

“No. I am merely referring to the unfortunate fact of human mortality.”

“Fuck off, Hubie.”

“Don’t call me Hubie.”

“Yeah? Well, don’t lurk and hover around Ferdie. You’re spooking me.”

“You have all hovered around him. It is only fair that I take my turn at monitoring his condition so that the others can rest.”

“Hm. Well, I’m gonna go get some sleep then. Don’t do any shifty dark magic to him, alright?”

“He saved my life. What motivations would I have for harming him?”

“Revenge for not letting you die? I know that’s what you wanted. I could see it in you, Hubie. I know that look because I’ve seen it in people before. Sylvain used to be like that when he was young. And so did Marianne.”

“You are perceptive, but only to a point if you think I have intentions of harming Ferdinand for what he did. If I was so intent on killing myself now I would do so without hesitation. I am not afraid of death. But now that I have a chance to see this through and make sure Those Who Slither in the Dark are fully exterminated, I intend to take it.”

“Whatever. Goodnight, Hubie.”

“Don’t call me Hubie.”

As the room falls silent, I drift off for a moment. But when I return from that moment the sunlight is gone from the room and the chill of night is in the air. How long was I lost in unconsciousness for? I want to wake up. I want to open my eyes.

A whisper. I cannot tell what he said.

A brush of fingertips, but only a brush. Light as a feather. Perhaps they did not even touch my skin. Perhaps it was only my imagination. I shiver nonetheless, craving the touch. 

“Ferdinand? Are you coming back to us?”

Husky, gentle, aching. His voice pulls me closer to reality. I wish that touch would return and guide me back to myself.

For the first time, I stir, finding just enough life in my body to move at last. It is just a shift of my hand, searching across smooth sheets, searching for warmth. I try to murmur words but I hear no sound.

My hand finds a new texture. Not sheets. Gloves. Fingers intertwine with mine, slowly, hesitantly.

“Ferdinand?”

It takes me a moment to realize that my eyes are open now, for they are greeted only by darkness. It is not until a light appears and slowly comes into focus as a candle that I realize I am awake. Truly so.

I blink, fighting to see clearly through the haze of a headache pounding behind my eyes. I feel the hand slip out of mine and my skin aches at the sudden loss of the touch. Turning onto my back, I look up to see Hubert studying me with an impassive expression.

“You are awake,” he says. “That is a good sign. What symptoms are you experiencing?”

“Cold,” I mumble, struggling to form the words. My mouth feels so dry. “Water?”

He nods and pours a glass from a pitcher by the bedside. I try to take it from him but my hands slip a bit and it sloshes across my pillow. Taking it back from me, Hubert raises it to my lips and I take a drink, ashamed at having to be taken care of like this but grateful for it all the same.

“If you are wondering what happened to you, the answer is that your energy was drained beyond normal limits. It will be some time before it regenerates. Your magic is tied to the heat and life of your body. You did severe damage to yourself by interfering with the spell.”

“You are recovered,” I say.

“I am not recovered, but my magic is regenerating quicker than yours for it is far stronger and used to being pushed to its limit.”

“You were going to die and you knew it.”

His carefully neutral expression does not waver, but I notice the way his eyes narrow subtly in anger. “I did and yet you do not portray my intentions with any degree of accuracy. There is a significant difference between saying that I was going to die and saying that no one else was going to die. I hope you can appreciate that distinction.”

“You could have asked for help.”

“I had no assurances that the spell would not kill two people as easily as one. Asking Holst would have accomplished nothing for he would never trust me. And the only other person containing powerful magic in our party was Juniper. Do you think I should have asked her for assistance?” he asks bitterly.

“Hubert,” I say hoarsely. “I have been conscious for mere moments and already we are arguing.”

“You said that you wished for me to tell you when you were in the wrong,” he replies. “Your actions were heedless and unnecessary. In short, you were an idiot. There are important things left for you to accomplish in your life and your reckless disregard for them speaks to a carelessness and selfishness I can’t stand by and watch silently.”

“What more important thing could I do than save the life of a friend and help destroy our enemies?”

He looks at me sharply when I speak the word  _ friend _ but I stare back at him without flinching.

“I am not your friend,” he says, his voice low and constrained.

“Yet you sit by my bedside and lecture me out of concern for my life.”

“Only because you play an important role in our complicated political landscape and since I still have an interest in the preservation of what is left of Adrestria, I cannot allow you to-”

“Hubert von Vestra,” I say, wincing at my headache and closing my eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”

He is stunned into silence and I cannot help but smile a bit, for the vulgarity of the word feels liberating. Perhaps I have spent too much time around Felix. Or perhaps it is simply that there are times when emphasis is more important than propriety.

Hubert clears his throat uncomfortably. “You should rest. You are clearly delirious. I will go fetch Sylvain to look after you for a while.”

He walks away before I can ask him to stay and I open my eyes again, watching him leave. My heart feels heavy and my body is still numb with cold, and yet there is a sense of freedom juxtaposed to these feelings. We have accomplished what we set out to do and, through some miracle, I have managed to hold onto that which I was terrified I would lose again.

There may still be fights ahead of us, for I know that factions of the Agarthans remain. But this shadow war we never knew we were fighting until recently has at last come to an end. Now we need only tie up its loose ends and return once more to peace.

  
  


###  **Felix**

I glance up at Sylvain as he slips into our room at the Goneril outpost.

“He’s woken up,” Sylvain says. “Hubert came and got me, said he was delirious.”

“Shit. That’s not good,” I say. 

Sylvain laughs. “He’s fine. It turns out it’s just that, for the first time in his life, our dear sweet Ferdinand von Aegir told someone to fuck off. I’m so proud of him.” Sylvain wipes a fake tear away. “Our boy’s all grown up now.”

I grunt a laugh and scoot over to make room on the bed for him. “Come get some rest. You look tired.”

He gets under the sheets and gathers me into his arms, but he flinches in pain a bit as my elbow accidentally nudges the bandage wrapped around his stomach. Even though Holst patched up the wound in his side well, the freshly-healed scars are still tender and in danger of being torn open again if he strains them too much.

“Stop. You’re still recovering. I’ll just make it worse lying all over you,” I say, trying to pull out of his arms. But he wraps them around me tighter, making it so that either I wrestle him off me, which will definitely reopen the wound, or I give in and let him be an idiot. As I stop struggling, he smiles and leans his head down to kiss my neck.

“You need to rest,” I say.

He catches a bit of skin between his teeth and bites down on it hard enough to make me yelp, “What the hell?”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he murmurs and returns to nuzzling and kissing my neck.

“Sylvain!”

“What?” he says, lifting his head up to look me in the eyes. “Do you not want me right now?”

“I always want you.”

“Insatiable,” he murmurs in a very good impression of teenage Felix.

“Ugh. Really?”

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

“Look, of course I want you. But it’s been three days since our fight and I think we’ve had enough reckless ‘thank the goddess we’re alive’ sex. Now we should take it easy so you can recover from your wounds fully.”

“First of all,” he says, his hand sliding slowly up my thigh, “I am still thanking the goddess that we’re alive. I am a very devout man and take none of her blessings for granted.” His palm brushes against my crotch and I silently curse myself for the reaction my body has at such a brief, simple touch. We haven't even had any foreplay yet and I’m already starting to get aroused. Damn Sylvain and that body of his and those damn hands of his and–

“Second of all,” he continues and I blink my eyes and struggle to focus on listening to what he is saying and glaring at his stupid face. But it’s difficult to not get distracted by his hand slipping under the band of my underwear so he can stroke his fingers across my bare skin. 

Sylvain notices the effect he is having on me and smiles wickedly. “Second of all,” he repeats, “You claimed that the wounds from the dark spikes that nearly took your leg off weren’t a good enough reason to keep you from fucking me yesterday. So why should my little cut matter?”

“You took a sword in the gut! My leg is fine but you-  _ fuck! _ Sylvain…”

His rude interruption to my protests leaves me moaning as his hand wraps around my dick and he leans down to catch one of my nipples in his mouth and sucks.

“You’re… you’re going to hurt yourself…” I gasp. “We should…”

Shit, now he’s moving downwards and giving me the bedroom eyes. I don’t stand a chance. 

As he swirls his tongue around the head of my dick for a second then leans down to take the whole length in his mouth, I tell myself to let him do what he wants and if he reopens the wound… Well, he’s a grown man who made his own decisions. I can’t always save him from his own foolishness.

“Take those clothes off,” I say breathlessly. “And get on your back.”

“Me?”

“Yes you. Now shut up. Clothes off.”

As he obeys, I grab the bottle of oil that is always, no matter where we are going or what we are doing, stashed in the corner of his pack. When I return to the bed, I grab one of the pillows and as he lies down, I tuck one under his lower back and make sure that he’s positioned in a way where he’s leaning more towards the non-injured side and the injured side should be mostly spared from much contact.

“So considerate,” he says and I glare up at him. 

“Can’t break the only husband I have.”

“You say ‘only’ like you’d like to collect more.”

“That’s illegal,” I reply, pouring a little of the oil on my fingers. “Now shut up. Except for if this hurts. You can talk to tell me if it hurts.”

“Thank you. How kind.”

I scowl at him for one second more then relax my tense manner and lean in to kiss him, holding back my arousal and impatience to enjoy his mouth tenderly and slowly. If I’m going to fuck him, I’m going to do it right and make it worth it for him.

I reach one hand down and massage him for a minute as we kiss, then I carefully slip one finger inside him and feel him gasp against my lips. “You’re too good to me, Fee,” he whispers.

“You deserve the best,” I answer and kiss him more intently, catching his tongue between my lips and sucking on it as I finger him a little deeper. He responds eagerly, trying to buck his hips a bit, but I grab his thigh with my free hand. “Stop. Relax.”

He gives in and I carry on, adding a second finger when I know he’s ready. At this point, I’ve forgotten that I wanted to keep it sweet and gentle for a while and am kissing and nipping at his neck, determined to pay him back for the bite he gave me earlier. This certainly escalates things and before I know it, I'm up to three fingers and Sylvain’s breath is racing and we’re both at the limits of our very thin patience.

“How do you want me?” he asks.

“What way would hurt least?”

“I don’t give a damn if it hurts. Take me however you want.”

“I give a damn. Get on your stomach and make sure you have the pillow under your bandage.”

As he readjusts, I get myself ready, then kneel down behind him. ‘Thank the goddess we’re alive’ sex usually involves lots of long, adoring eye contact and whispering sentimental bullshit in each other’s ears. But anything that requires too much flexibility from Sylvain is definitely not a good idea.

I should not have let him talk me into this. He should be resting.

“Fee, for the love of-” he begins but stops with a gasp as I grab his hips and tug him a bit closer. I’m slow and careful as I slide into him, making sure his tense body relaxes enough to take it. But by the time I’m halfway in, I’m already seeing stars and having to restrain the impulse to rush ahead and fuck him senseless already.

He lets out a long, low moan and the arousing sound does not make it any easier to concentrate. When I can finally move more freely, I pull back then thrust in deeper, drawing a cry from him that the pillows only barely manage to muffle.

Planting one hand on the bed to prop myself up, I reach around and clamp my other hand around his mouth, whispering, “Quiet! We’re guests here and I don’t know how soundproof these walls are. Keep it together.”

He bites my hand and as I yank it away he says, “I can be quiet. Worry about yourself.”

“You?” I say. “Quiet?” I punctuate each word with thrusts that make him whimper with pleasure.

“Stop mocking me. Just-  _ ahh! _ Fee…”

“Sshh!”

Finally, he gets control of himself and I can stop worrying about us causing a ruckus. Now my focus is on keeping my own mouth shut as I fuck him in earnest. My head swims with pleasure and I speed up my rhythm, adjusting my position slightly so I’m at the perfect angle for him and he is a mess of muffled groans, panting breaths and clenching muscles beneath me. 

Tired as I am, I slip up and let myself get too close to an orgasm without meaning to. Before I can hold back, the rush of pleasure sweeps through my body, hot and overpowering. I realize my mistake and swear under my breath. 

Pulling out, I move him onto his back and slip my fingers inside him without hardly missing a beat. At least this gives me the opportunity to give some attention to the rest of his body. As I duck my head down and take his dick in my mouth, lavishing attention on it while I continue to finger him, he props himself up on his elbows and looks at me.

Tangling his fingers in my hair, he guides me to move at the rhythm he wants and watches with a mesmerized expression, his eyes wide and bright with arousal. When I go all the way down on him and the head of his dick hits the back of my throat, he gasps and his mouth falls open with a silent moan. I watch in satisfaction as his brow furrows in a look of pleasure and he murmurs in broken, breathless sentences, “Fee, I’m so- so close. Just… just like that. Fuck!”

He comes hard and I have to concentrate to not choke. Once he’s finished, I swallow and slip my fingers out of him. As I take a deep breath and wipe my mouth, he melts down into the sheets with a soul-deep sigh.

“I love you,” he says, his eyes closed and expression hazy, but his tone so serious it sounds like he is reciting a vow.

A couple funny or sarcastic replies come to mind, but I keep them to myself and reply sincerely, “I love you too.”

Even after we have both cleaned up and settled back into bed, he is still a dazed mess, clumsily flopping one arm and leg across me as I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling, too restless to consider sleeping but determined to stay like this until he drifts off.

Nuzzling my neck, he hums happily and I smile. “If we keep this up, I’m pretty sure it’s not just the goddess who’s going to know how thankful you are that I’m alive.”

“We’re newlyweds,” he murmurs. “We’re on our honeymoon.”

“Some honeymoon this is.”

“I figured a beach in Adrestria wasn’t your thing. Wyvern flying, world saving and Titanus fighting is more your speed.”

“We didn’t save the world,” I tell him. “There’s still more left. We have to go back to Fhirdiad, help Dimitri round up the rest of these Agarthans… There’s a lot we have to do. We won’t be packing up our weapons anytime soon, I think.”

If Sylvain hears the unspoken  _ ‘or so I hope’ _ at the end of my sentence, he doesn’t question it. But I know that it is hard to hide things from him and he can likely hear the longing in my voice that I can’t seem to repress.

These past few days have been a blur of exhaustion, worry and relief as we take shifts looking after Ferdinand, discuss with Holst and Hilda what our next steps should be, tend to our own wounds, take care of Juniper, and make sure Hubert doesn’t warp away and do something sketchy again. I have barely had time to myself to think, especially because Sylvain has seized every opportunity for privacy that we have to drag me into bed. 

But in the moments like this, as we rest in the peaceful silence after sex, or in the early hours of the morning when I wake up before Sylvain, my mind keeps turning to what comes next – not in this fight against Those Who Slither in the Dark, but rather what comes after that.

Except I know what comes after that. Duke and Margrave Fraldarius throw a wedding tournament, they continue to rule their respective territories. Duke Felix accompanies his husband up to the Gautier-Sreng border to help with negotiations. Margrave Sylvain aids his husband in managing the vast Fraldarius territory and helping the king with the rebuilding of Faerghus. They do paperwork. They get old. They fight off the occasional pack of bandits. They have a couple political skirmishes. They do more paperwork. Then eventually they die of old age and are buried together in the royal cemetery amongst their noble ancestors.

That’s what happens after this. I keep my blade sharp but only use it once a year or so in any kind of real combat and never against a worthy opponent. I watch Sylvain live out all his domestic dreams, being an uncle to our friends’ children, taking care of the dog we keep meaning to adopt… all that nonsense. Because it’s nonsense I’ve promised him, over and over again whenever I saw the insecure look in his eyes that he had had the day we had promised to spend the rest of our lives together. 

_ “Are you afraid that I’ll get bored of you?” _

_ “I’ve always been afraid of that.” _

I promised him that day that I wouldn’t and I meant it with all my heart.

“What’s on your mind?” Sylvain asks me. “You seem restless. Was it not satisfying for you? Because I’ll happily-”

“I’m perfectly satisfied,” I reassure him. “I should think that’d be obvious by how quickly I came. You felt so good.”

“Then what’s bothering you?”

“Nothing. Nothing that needs to be talked about, at least. Get some sleep, Sylvain. Please. You’ve been running yourself ragged.”

I keep him from pressing the subject by kissing him until he relaxes and seems to finally get sleepy. With a yawn, he murmurs goodnight and rolls over. 

Free of his observation, I return to my thoughts, knowing I won’t rest until I get to the bottom of this. I don’t like having unresolved things hanging about in my head. So what the hell is wrong with me and how do I fix it? 

My mind does not give me a solid answer, much to my frustration. Instead it just wanders back to the image of the host of Agarthans that ambushed us outside Shambhala, of the way they were just churning shadows in the dark until fire exploded from Freikugel, illuminating the night enough that I could see the attacks coming at me and counter them with ease.

The Apocalyptic Flame. I see why they call it that now. But it wasn't the gaudy relic weapon that made me marvel. It was the way Holst plowed through a sea of enemies with his axe and his spells, purposeful, ruthless and confident. It was the way I gave him the chance to do that by guarding his back and working together with him and Sylvain to survive when we were so vastly outnumbered.

Rescuing Hubert from the laboratory was a fight. But that ambush was a battle – the first one I’ve had since the war ended. And the fall of Enbarr was not a day I want to remember. It was gritty and depressing and left the foul taste of defeat in my mouth despite our decisive victory. 

Our battle outside Shambhala was nothing like that. It was a rush of adrenaline, desperation, terror and hope. It was the first time in years I had felt like I truly belonged in a place, in a moment.

Sylvain shifts beside me and rolls over to snuggle up next to me, already snoring softly. I curl around him, soaking in his warmth and relaxing in the comfort of his touch. But still my thoughts won’t quiet and my mind won’t stop replaying that battle over and over again, memorizing the flow of it, analyzing what I could have done better, what I should work on in my training, how I can step it up so that next time my attacks are more effective and our success comes with less wounds.

Eventually I drift off with the thought of  _ next time _ still spinning in my brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to end this chapter on a cliff-hanger but like... fuck cliff-hangers. Just know that no matter what Ferdie thinks, the war is _not_ over. And if you've played Verdant Wind, you know what's coming next.


	21. What Rose From the Ashes

## 21 – What Rose From the Ashes

###  **Ferdinand**

“When will there be pirates? You said there’d be pirates.” 

“I’m getting to that part, if you will just be patient a moment longer. Now where were we? Right. Once Percy made it to the top of the mountain, he saw on the other side a valley sloping down to the coast. And in the bay of a small port town he saw several ships. But the town was under attack. He could see fire and smoke coming from it.”

I awake in the morning to Hubert and Juniper’s voices speaking in low tones so as not to disturb my sleep. As I slowly gather the energy to stir from my rest, I listen in amusement as Hubert tells Juniper the story. But it is not a Percy the Pegasus story I remember reading during my childhood and I wonder if he has run out of them and is making them up now for her.

“The pirates?” Juniper asks him.

“Yes, the pirates.”

“Good.”

“Pirates are not good. They are dangerous, not just to people’s safety but to the economic stability of a country because they disrupt trade and make travel difficult. Anyways, I digress. Percy knew he had to help the town, so he leapt into the air and flew down the mountainside towards the bay. As he grew closer, he saw-”

Hubert stops as I stir and open my eyes.

“You’re awake!” Juniper says.

I smile at her. “Good morning.”

“Hue was telling me a pirate story,” she says. 

“Was he now? That sounds exciting,” I reply.

“Do you want to listen to it with me?” she asks.

Hubert looks like he would rather die than allow that to happen. “I will have to tell you the rest later. I must speak with Ferdinand alone first,” he tells her. “How about you go find Sylvain and ask him to make you some breakfast?”

Juniper grabs her stuffed horse, which was lying beside me on the bed, and jumps down from her chair, walking out of the room. When we are alone, Hubert asks stiffly, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” I answer, tucking aside the blankets and sitting up. But as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed to get up, dizziness strikes me so hard I have to clutch fistfulls of the sheets to keep from falling over.

“Not that much better, apparently,” he comments. “It could be some time before you have your energy back.”

“And you? Are you still recovering?”

“Yes, but I am functional for the most part.”

As I make a second attempt to get up, Hubert reaches out and puts his hand on my arm to steady me. “Wait a moment.” He gets up and returns with a small vial, which he hands to me. 

I uncork it and sniff it suspiciously. “What is this?”

“A simple potion of ginger and mint. I could not find any more sophisticated magical ingredients and my potion-making skills are limited to the bare fundamentals. But it should strengthen your energy and magic at least a little.”

I take an experimental sip and find that the taste, although a bit abrasively potent, is not unpleasant. It does have a refreshing effect and I feel much less lightheaded.

“Thank you,” I say, finishing the rest of the vial and handing it back to him. “Was there something you wished to speak of?”

“Yes. I need to ask you about Sylvain and Felix, specifically their affiliation with the Church of Seiros. Faerghus has always been a country controlled by religion. Do you know if they are personally loyal to the church? Sylvain has told me that although Rhea lives, she has abdicated leadership of the church to Byleth and has removed herself from the public eye. I remember in our school days that Sylvain often expressed skepticism for the church. Has he become loyal now that Byleth is the archbishop?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I am concerned for Juniper’s fate. She looks to Sylvain and Felix for protection and they will no doubt have a say in what becomes of her when they take her back to Fhirdiad. I need to know if they are likely to hand her over to the church to be raised in one of their charitable institutions.”

“Would that be dangerous for her?” I ask.

“Yes. Indisputably so.” Hubert glances away from me with a thoughtful frown then says, “I should have prefaced this discussion by ascertaining your own beliefs. Years ago you shared my feelings towards the church. Has your distrust been replaced with loyalty after siding with Faerghus?”

I struggle for a moment to find the right words, for it is a subject that is difficult to discuss with him and requires careful wording. Finally, I answer, “I did not side with Faerghus and the church when I chose to fight in their army. I sided with Byleth because I knew that her mission was peace and not power.”

“And yet she has come into great power upon her victory,” Hubert says.

“A power she has redistributed as much as she can. The church is a far cry from the autocracy it once was. Even though I shared your desire to see the church held accountable for its actions, I did not think burning it to the ground to be the safest measure. I think people will always need religion, even though I am not one who does. Our best option was to reform the church so it could provide that religion without acting as a political and judicial body. But my opinions are not a conversation that needs to be had at the moment, Hubert. If you are asking whether I would trust the church with Juniper’s wellbeing, the answer is unequivocally no. And I believe Sylvain and Felix will feel similarly. Although I think they still do hold some belief in the goddess, they do not seem to have any loyalty to the Church of Seiros itself, other than their friendship with Byleth and Dimitri. If you were to explain to them your concerns about Juniper’s safety, I have no doubt they would take them seriously.”

He nods. “Thank you. I will confer with them on the matter. I must make sure she will be safe.”

“You are intending to leave,” I say. “Where will you go?”

“There are still Agarthan laboratories hidden away. I intend to hunt them down and dispose of them, and I cannot do so from a jail cell in Faerghus. You will need to return to Fhirdiad to inform them of what has happened here. But I must take my leave before I no longer have the chance to do so.”

My heart falls at the thought of him disappearing once more. But what did I expect would happen once our mission was complete? That he would return with us to Faerghus? His aid in the destruction of Shambhala will not be enough to spare him from standing trial for his actions during the war. And no amount of redemption is likely to give him a full pardon. Some of the other Adrestrians such as Lindhardt and Bernadetta were allowed pardons, although they were stripped of their noble status. But Hubert remained our vehement enemy until his supposed death. I doubt he will be afforded such leniency, for any possible treachery from him would be far more dangerous than any Linhardt or Bernadetta could do if they ever had the inclination.

Would I go so far as to help Hubert escape and harbor him as a fugitive? Aegir is a vast territory and the work I do to manage it and rebuild it from the war is essential to the wellbeing of its many citizens. Would I forfeit my responsibility and become an outlaw to save Hubert? It was reckless enough that I nearly gave my own life to save him. As a noble, I am supposed to act without thought to my personal emotions so as to protect my people.

Would Hubert even accept my help were I to offer it?

“What do you think would be the safest option for Juniper?” I ask.

“Did Linhardt survive the war?”

“Yes. He runs a hospital and research center in Derdriu with Lysithea von Cordelia.”

“With Lysithea? Interesting. That is very good. Juniper’s best bet would be to be taken there, at least for a time. She will need someone to protect her there, for I think there are others besides the Agarthans who would wish to get their hands on her. She holds a very unique power that many would like to use for their own means,” he says. “Half of her childhood has been robbed of her. I would like to see her have a chance to live the rest of hers with some semblance of normality. But she will not have that chance without Linhardt’s help.”

I am about to ask why when the pieces fall together in my mind. Closing my eyes, I bow my head and rest my forehead in my hand. “They did to her what they did to Edelgard and Lysithea.”

“Yes. She will not live a long life unless her condition is cured. Linhardt was working on a cure during the war. If he has finished his research, he could help her. She could live a normal life if he can remove the crest.”

“Why would they do that to her?”

“For the same reason they did it to Edelgard.” His voice quiets and grows hoarse when he speaks her name and I can hear the depth of pain it causes him. “To use her as a weapon. If my magic was able to power one of their javelins of light, can you imagine what Juniper could do, what atrocities they could have accomplished with the magical power of that crest at their disposal?”

“Why would this put her in danger from the church?” I ask.

“Because she could become the next Edelgard if she is allowed to live. In order to prevent that, they will need to control her as they sought to control Byleth.” He glances up to meet my eyes with an urgent expression. “Juniper has been treated as a tool instead of a person her whole life. I intend to not let that happen again. She deserves to live a normal life. The life…” He pauses for a moment to force his emotions into control and hide them behind his impassive frown. “The life Edelgard never had,” he finishes.

I am silent for a long minute, struggling too to stay calm in the face of the thoughts and feelings his words evoke in me. Then I reply, “I swear to you, I will make sure she is kept safe. I failed to save Edelgard and I failed to save you. I will not allow myself to fail again.”

“If you believe that atonement comes from action, then let this be your action,” he says. “If I were a man capable of forgiveness I would say that doing this thing for me would earn you my forgiveness. But I cannot promise you that. What I can promise you is my sincerest and deepest gratitude.”

“I require neither your gratitude nor your forgiveness.” I stand up and put on my coat. “I will go speak with Sylvain and Felix. When they understand the severity of the situation, I have every faith in the world they will agree to send her to Linhardt’s hospital and keep her safe from the church.” 

Hubert stands up from his chair and says, “I will bid goodbye to Juniper, then I will be on my way.”

My heart leaps into my throat at the suddenness of his departure. “Maybe you should-”

“No. I cannot afford to wait.” He shifts uncomfortably then says, “Goodbye, Ferdinand. Thank you for all that you have done.”

He turns away and the panic that rises up inside me causes me to react impetuously, throwing aside the dignity of a calm and distant farewell. I stumble over to stand in front of him and reach out to take his face in my hands. He freezes, too stunned to pull away.

“Find me when you are done,” I say. “There is more in life you can do than fight. Once your war against Those Who Slither in the Dark is done, you will have many years yet to live. Come find me in Aegir and I will give you safe passage to somewhere outside of Fódlan where you can build a new life.”

He does not immediately reply and I step closer, brushing a stray curl out of his face and staring into his eyes earnestly. “I have made a promise for you. Promise me in return that you will not throw your life away again. Promise me!” I say. It was meant to be a plea but the words come from my mouth so emphatically it sounds more like a command.

“Involving you in any capacity is too much of a risk. Surely you understand that. I will not make any promise to seek your aid another time. It would not be an act of gratitude but rather of reckless endangerment.”

“Damn it, Hubert, listen to me! I am sick of having this conversation!”

“Then stop clinging to some irrational need to care about my wellbeing. There is no-”

With a short, choked cry of frustration, I pull his face down to kiss him. I hardly know what I am doing and I act only on instinct, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him even more intently. After a second, I come to my senses and alarm strikes through my mind. Then I realize that there is a gentle hand on the back of my head and that his lips are moving against mine with astonishing tenderness.

His other hand rests on the small of my back and he leans in to deepen the kiss, responding with a longing that makes my heart pound.

He pauses for an instant and rests his forehead against mine, his breath racing. “Damn you,” he whispers. 

Before I can react, he yanks out of my arms and disappears. I stare in shock at the space where he was a second ago and struggle to process what just happened. Then I stagger back to the bed and sit down, clutching the roots of my hair in my hands. Closing my eyes, I curse silently at the riot of emotions aching inside me, and for one selfish, cruel moment I wish that he had stayed dead and I had not been made a fool of by my naiveté and helplessness once again.

  
  


###  **Felix**

As Holst’s wyvern swoops above the crest of a hill and the mountain below which Shambhala once existed comes into view, I marvel again at the destruction that happened that night. It has been days and the smoke and ash still rest heavily in the air. The entire side of the mountain is caved in and in the deep crater lies heaps of rubble and ash.

Holst swears and says, “This could have been Fhirdiad. Thank the goddess we prevented it.”

It is such a sobering thought that I don’t know how to reply to it. Letting go of the saddle to shade my eyes with one hand, I survey the countryside, looking for signs of any survivors. Each day Holst has flown out here on a patrol and so far we have seen nothing, though, so at this point it seems safe to assume Shambhala is gone for good. But I wanted to come with him this time so I could see it for myself. That night the explosion had felt so unreal it was hard to believe it wasn’t a dream.

It seems like a lifetime ago that Sylvain and I were appalled at a simple biological weapon that the Agarthans had invented. To think that all this time, weapons a thousandfold more powerful were lying in wait shakes me to my core. It was a stroke of luck that we found Hubert and that he knew of Shambhala, and even greater luck that we managed to pull off our reckless invasion of it.

The fate of our world should never hang on something so fragile as luck. We won the Imperial War with perseverance, strategy and strength. This war was far too precarious for my liking, albeit far less bloody.

“You and Sylvain need to go back to Fhirdiad to speak with King Dimitri,” Holst says. “Ferdie might be well enough to travel now, but even if he isn’t, you should go. He can stay here and recover with me and Hilda. Even though we’ve sent word to Dimitri, he should hear the story from someone he trusts.”

“Yes. Sylvain and I intend to leave today.”

“What do you think Byleth will do with the kid? Let the church raise her?” he asks.

“Byleth? It’s not up to her or the church!”

“If Juniper doesn’t have a family to go back to, who will raise her? Someone will have to make the decision.”

“She can make the decision herself,” I reply without thinking. Then the ramifications of the statement hit me like a kick in the stomach.

Juniper knows nothing of the world and trusts no one but us. If we were to let her choose, she would want to stay with us. But that’s impossible. What are we supposed to do with her? The idea of sending her off to some orphanage or boarding school, no matter how respectable and trustworthy it is, makes me angry on instinct. I’d never betray her trust like that. She would hate being packed off somewhere where she doesn’t know anyone. 

But the alternative is overwhelming to consider too.

To my relief, Holst doesn’t push the subject. He steers his wyvern to fly northwards across the valley to finish our patrol.

“Before I go, I have a favor to ask,” I say.

“Oh?”

“I want to fight you.”

Holst laughs. “You do, do you?” 

“You’re a worthy opponent. I could learn a lot.”

“You could get your ass kicked.”

“I can take it. Can you?”

Holst swears cheerfully and says, “You’ve got balls, Fraldarius. I’ll give you that.” He laughs again. “Sure. But your wootz steel isn’t a match for Freikugel and you don’t know any spells.”

“No relics. We settle this man-to-man without weapons.”

“You want to brawl?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got a good foot of height and at least seventy or eighty pounds on you. That’s not a fair fight.”

I bristle and say resentfully, “Don’t count me out so easily. Your size doesn’t mean a damn thing if you can’t hit me. I’m small, yes, but I’m fast.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t get your feathers ruffled. I won’t go easy on you and if-” He stops mid-sentence and flicks the wyvern’s reins to veer her around. “What in Seiros’s name is that?”

I follow his gaze and see a host of figures emerge from a scattering of trees below us, marching along the road with the organization and pace of soldiers.

“Whose troops are those?” I ask.

“Not mine,” he says. “And look. There. Do you see that spark of red?”

I squint to see better and make out a weapon of some kind glowing like an ember. It is held by a huge horseman at the vanguard of the troops.

“A relic?” I ask.

“A sword,” he replies. His vision must be better than mine.

Holst switches to holding the reins in one hand and he holds out his other, an orb of magic flaring to life in it. As we fly closer, I make out the sigil on the tattered, smoke-stained banners and my mind races to make sense of it.

“That’s the Crest of Flames,” I say.

“And that’s the Sword of the Creator,” Holst replies. “Fuck. They’re headed westwards towards us. They might be on route to Fhirdiad.”

“It’s not Byleth,” I say. “And no one else can wield the sword!”

“Look, I’m not saying this makes any damn sense, but there is someone else in history who wielded that sword. If it’s not Byleth…”

“No. No way. That’s insane!”

Holst curses again and nudges his wyvern to fly as fast as she can back towards the outpost.

“Holst, that’s insane! It can’t be him! He died centuries ago!”

“And fire rained from the sky to destroy an entire mountainside! Crazier shit than we can imagine is happening right now. Besides, even if it isn’t him, anyone who can wield that sword without being struck dead is a threat we don’t want to fuck with!”

The rush of wind is too loud to be heard over as we hightail it back to the outpost but the second we land, Holst exclaims, “You’re leaving for Fhirdiad now! You have to warn Dimitri and Byleth! We’ll try to slow them down enough to give you a shot to gather an army.”

“I only counted about a hundred! If we gather the troops we have here in Goneril and Hrym we might be able to fight them before they can cross the country! We killed nearly that many in Shambhala.”

“Those Agarthans didn’t have the Sword of the Creator,” he says. “Listen to me, Fraldarius. When you’ve fought as many battles as I have, you learn to trust your instincts. My instincts are telling me that numbers don’t matter here. Something dangerous is about to happen and we need more than a madcap last stand to prevent it. Go to Fhirdiad! Meet them on the road with an army. I’ll see how many I can pick off and send word to you on my fastest wyvern.”

Holst is not an easy person to argue with, but I hate the idea of running from a fight. 

As we burst into the outpost, we find Sylvain and Ferdinand in the common room, talking in distressed tones.

“Hubert’s gone!” Sylvain tells us immediately.

“Bastard!” Holst swears. “We have worse problems, though.”

“What?” Ferdinand asks.

“Forces have emerged from Shambhala and are marching towards Fhirdiad.”

“Shambhala is a smoking crater in the ground! How could anything have survived that?” Sylvain says.

“I was going to ask Hubert that but now I guess that’s not going to fucking happen!” he answers. 

“How many troops?” Ferdinand asks.

“At least a hundred,” I answer.

“Only a hundred?” Sylvain echoes.

“They’re led by a warrior wielding the Sword of the Creator and their banners bear the Crest of Flames,” Holst says. “If it’s not Byleth who else could it be? If you have any ideas, please say them. But at the moment I can only think of one person, even though he is supposed to be rotting in his grave.”

“Nemesis?” Sylvain looks from Holst to me in shock. “That’s impossible.”

“Sylvain,” Ferdinand says, a haunted look on his face. “Do you remember the room in the laboratory with the candles and the symbols on the wall?”

He glances at Ferdinand and nods. “What about it?”

“The candles were framing one carving in particular and it was of a horseman wielding a sword. Around him were carved all the crests of the noble houses. At the time, I did not think much of it, for I knew that Those Who Slither in the Dark experimented with crests. But if that sword in the carving was the Sword of the Creator, it must have been an image of Nemesis.”

“You think they worshipped Nemesis or something and they found a way to bring him back?” he asks.

“I wouldn’t put anything past people who can build weapons like that,” Holst says. “In any case, we have to prepare for the worst. Whatever just marched out of Shambhala, we set it loose. We have to deal with it.”

“Did Hubert warn you about anything like this?” I ask Ferdinand.

He shakes his head. “No. He would have if he had known. When we talked, he acted like we were all safe now. He said there were some Agarthan laboratories still hidden, but he gave no indication that they had any military forces or significant weapons left. He would have told me if he knew of any such army.”

“Then why the hell did he conveniently disappear right as these troops showed up?” Holst demands.

Pain shadows Ferdinand’s expression. “I wish I knew.”


	22. Convergence

##  22 - Convergence

###  **Felix**

We push our wyverns as far as they can fly but in the wee hours of the morning we have to let them rest and make camp. After forcing some food and tea into Ferdinand, who is listless and lost in thought, Sylvain takes first watch and I drop down wearily onto the grass to sleep without even bothering to unpack my bedroll. 

But I awake after only a brief rest to the sound of Sylvain singing softly. Sitting up and rubbing my exhausted, aching eyes, I look over and see him cradling a blanket-ensconced Juniper in his arms, his head bowed and weary as he hums and murmurs the words to a song.

I give him a questioning look and he glances down at her to make sure she is asleep then whispers, “Nightmares. Bad ones.”

Poor thing.

“Get some sleep,” I tell Sylvain and he nods. Carefully, he lays Juniper down and tucks the blankets around her more securely. She hugs Percy tighter and mumbles something in her sleep but doesn’t wake.

Sylvain kisses me sleepily and clumsily then lies down beside me and huddles up in his cloak, resting his head in my lap. With a yawn, I comb my fingers through his hair and watch as he drifts off to sleep. 

Maybe I’m just tired from our strenuous travel and the wild events of the past few weeks, but my heart aches for the comfort of home and lazy weekend evenings spent dozing and fucking and reading in bed. I miss Sylvain chattering pleasantly at me while I sharpen my swords, and I miss the look of delight on his face in the mornings when I’d bring him tea and breakfast after returning from my dawn training session. I miss bickering about whether to attend the opera or the art galleries in Fhirdiad during our brief visits and ending up doing neither, opting instead to spend the evening in the palace drinking with Byleth and talking politics with Dimitri. 

I miss the routine of our lives that we had fallen into without ever meaning to.

And yet during those days I had secretly missed the challenge of a good fight and the sense of purpose that came from putting my strength and skill to use in an important mission. Am I doomed to always want one while having the other?

Now is not the time for introspection. I’m far too muddled and anxious to think reasonably anyways.

Setting aside my thoughts, I focus on staying awake and keeping watch for several hours until the first glimmers of light are appearing on the horizon. Ferdinand wakes up before the others and shivers, coming over to sit next to me. He looks so pathetic and cold that I sigh and hold out the edge of my cloak. Wordlessly, he scoots closer and huddles under it with me, leaning against me. 

I decide to give Sylvain and Juniper another thirty or forty minutes of sleep, seeing as our wyverns still look exhausted. As I sit next to Ferdinand in silence, my mind strays to the image of Sylvain singing to Juniper earlier, of how at ease and safe she looked in his arms. Being the oldest of our group of childhood friends, Sylvain has always played the role of big brother well. But given his feelings on having a family of his own, I never for a moment imagined I’d ever see him play a fatherly one. 

“Felix,” Ferdinand says hoarsely. “Are those hoof beats?”

I perk up and listen and sure enough, the rhythmic tread of hooves is growing closer. “Shit,” I mumble and jump to my feet, immediately starting to saddle the wyverns. The commotion wakes up Sylvain and he helps.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Someone is coming.”

“From the west not the east,” Ferdinand says. “It’s not Nemesis or Holst.”

Juniper helps pack up our camp and right as we are about to take to the skies, a group of riders crest the hill and gallop down towards us.

“They have my magic!” Juniper says worriedly.

“What?” I look closer at the riders and shout, “Byleth!”

A screech sounds overhead and I look up to see a huge, pale wyvern descending from the skies. They reach us at the same time and as the dust settles, a commotion sets in of people leaping from saddles and running over to greet us.

“Sylvain! How’s it going, old friend?” Claude says, climbing down from the saddle of his wyvern.

“Byleth?” I say in confusion as she walks over with a grave expression. “Where’s Dimitri?”

“Guarding Fhirdiad. Where are Holst and Hilda?” she asks.

Before I can answer, I catch sight of a flash of silver hair out of the corner of my eye just in time to brace for impact as Ashe tackles me in a hug. “Felix!”

“Get off me,” I growl.

He steps back with an undeterred smile and says, “It’s been so long!”

I can’t help but smile back. Damn that kid. His enthusiasm is contagious. “It has,” I admit. “It’s good to see you. But what are you doing here?”

“Ferdinand?” Petra says, racing over to hug him. “Are you injured? You are not looking well.”

I take stock of the chaos, counting fifty Church of Seiros knights with Byleth at their lead, Petra and Ashe and a score of Brigid knights, and Claude alone with his wyvern. 

“Alright, enough, what are you doing here? What’s going on?” I say, raising my voice to be heard over the tumult of happy greetings.

The noise quiets and we convene in a circle as Byleth explains soberly, “We received word from Holst that you discovered the location of the Agarthan stronghold. We do not have enough soldiers to invade it so we came to scope it out and form a different strategy. We must strike at it before they can launch another attack on Fhirdiad.”

“First of all, the city is in ruins. We took care of that,” Sylvain says. “Second of all, another attack? What happened?”

“They came soon after you left and decimated our guards. I sent for Claude and Petra to warn them of this threat. The Agarthans left a message that they were going to strike again.”

“The Agarthans are not our problem at the moment,” I say. “We leveled their city and destroyed their weapons and probably a significant amount of their forces. But out of the ruins marched a small army. They are heading towards us as we speak. We were on our way to warn you. Holst and Hilda are holding them off to buy us time.”

“An army? Whose army?” Claude asks.

A wyvern bursts from the fog to our east and we all look up in surprise. Claude draws his bow but as the wyvern hurtles closer, I catch sight of a flash of pink and Claude must too because he lowers his bow. 

“Hilda?” he says.

Her wyvern practically crashes to the ground and Hilda staggers out of the saddle. She is covered in blood and on her face is a look of fear I have never seen on her before. Hilda is a lot of things, but fearful is not one of them.

“Claude? CLAUDE!” she screams and he runs forward and catches her as she stumbles. “Thank the goddess you’re here,” she says, a sob catching in her throat.

Claude helps her limp over and asks, “What happened? You’re hurt!”

She nods breathlessly and points to her leg and waist. As Byleth sets to work immediately on healing her wounds, Hilda explains in between gasps, “They cut through us like we were- nothing. Holst- We had to fall back. I’ve- never seen Holst retreat. I- I came to warn you. What- are you doing here?”

“We came as soon as Holst sent word,” Byleth replies.

Tears are streaming down Hilda’s face and when Byleth finishes healing her wounds, she wraps her arms around Claude’s waist and clings to him desperately. He puts his arms around her gently and kisses the top of her head.

“Is Holst alive?” he asks.

“Yes, but only just,” she answers. Taking a deep breath, she lets go of Claude, but he keeps one arm around her and presses another kiss to her temple.

“Whose army?” Petra asks.

“It’s Nemesis and with him are the Ten Elites,” Hilda says. “I know you probably won’t believe me, but I saw it with my own eyes. I saw Goneril. He attacked me with his own Freikugel! We tried to hold them all off, but they wiped out our battalion and- and…” She trails off and looks up at Claude worriedly to see if he believes her.

“It can’t be,” Ashe says. “Nemesis died centuries ago.”

“I saw him too,” I speak up. “The Agarthans found a way to bring him back. It doesn’t matter how. What matters is that he is marching on Fhirdiad and we have to stop him. Byleth, what troops can we gather?”

“How long do we have before he reaches Fhirdiad? We can gather some of the soldiers from-”

Hilda interrupts her in a panicked voice. “No. We don’t have time!”

“Why?” Byleth asks.

“The longer he marches, the more reinforcements he’ll get. He already has our soldiers. He- They’re dead but they’re under his control. He looks like a corpse too! They all do. It’s awful! I can’t believe he’d do that to him! They died trying to stop him!”

Claude swears quietly in Almyran then says to Hilda, “I’m so sorry.” He lets go of her and says, “I’ll go scout ahead and see if there’s a good place for an ambush.” He runs back to his wyvern and jumps in the saddle, flying off without another word.

Hilda sits down, her legs still shaky, and Ferdinand goes over to sit next to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. Juniper, who has been hiding behind our wyverns the whole time, walks over to hand a canteen of water and a cloth to Hilda.

“Your face is bloody,” she says. “You don’t like being dirty.”

Hilda smiles faintly at her and takes it, wiping the blood and sweat away. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Byleth looks at Juniper in surprise and curiosity and I realize that Holst may not have mentioned her in his message.

“Why is there a child with you?” Ashe asks me.

“We rescued her from the Agarthans,” I reply.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs.

“It seems we cannot afford to wait,” Byleth says, glancing away from Juniper. “But I don’t want to take on a losing battle. If this is an enemy that can beat Holst, he is not to be treated lightly.”

“This needs to end and I’ll be damned if we sit around waiting for reinforcements,” I reply. “We have a host of the strongest warriors in the world gathered. If we can’t take Nemesis, we have no right to call ourselves leaders.”

“I am in agreement with Felix,” Petra says. “I must be returning to Brigid and I can’t until this threat is taken care of. We have won a war. We can win a battle if we are working together.”

“Let’s wait and see what Claude says. We’ll need a place where we have a tactical advantage since we’ll be outnumbered,” Sylvain says.

“Claude can figure out a plan,” Hilda says. “Claude’s won battles with much worse odds before.”

Byleth looks at Ferdinand and asks, “Where is Hubert? I want to speak with him.”

“He left after we destroyed Shambhala,” Ferdinand replies.

“Wasn’t he your prisoner?” she asks.

“He wasn’t our prisoner,” Sylvain replies quickly, covering for Ferdie who looks too distressed by the question to know how to respond. “He was our ally. Without him, we would never have known about the Agarthan city nor been able to destroy it. We owe him everything.”

“He left to hunt down the rest of the hidden Agarthan laboratories. I don’t believe he knew about Nemesis,” Ferdie adds.

“How did you destroy a whole city?” Ashe asks.

As Sylvain explains the story, I go over to Juniper and kneel down in front of her. “These people are our friends, but I still want you to be wary of them, okay? Don’t tell them anything about you or Hubert, alright?”

She nods and I give her a reassuring smile.

I notice that the others are eyeing Juniper curiously again and, bearing in mind what Ferdinand told us about Juniper and the church, I can’t help but feel protective even though I trust Byleth. I stand in front of Juniper and fend off anyone who looks like they want to come over and talk to her by regarding them with my most off-putting stare.

After a few minutes, the pale figure of Claude’s wyvern pops back into view. As he lands and walks over, I examine the look of grim determination on his face and know that he has already decided when and where to fight.

Good. I’m itching for another fight and end all this madness once and for all. 

“How far off is he?” I ask Claude.

“About six leagues,” Claude answers. “If we move fast we can intercept him in a valley where we will have good visibility for ranged attacks. I agree with Hilda. We have to strike immediately before he burns his path through Fódlan.”

“If we attack now recklessly, do you think we can win, Claude?” Byleth asks.

“Yeah, actually, I do.”

“Then we march,” she replies, glancing at Petra who nods in agreement.

I look down at Juniper and see her studying us all with a fierce look on her face. She thinks she is going to ride into battle with us, doesn’t she? 

Sylvain motions to Ferdinand and me and we walk a ways away from the others.

“You have to take Juniper and continue on to Fhirdiad,” he tells Ferdinand.

“And abandon you to fight without me?” he says, stiffening with offense. “A-”

“-noble never abandons his friends, no matter the cost,” Sylvain finishes. “Yes. But someone has to keep her safe.”

He looks conflicted and Juniper tugs at my sleeve, making me jump slightly. She must have followed us. 

“I can fight,” she says.

“No,” I reply automatically. “You’re going with Ferdie. It’s too dangerous.”

“I have magic!” she insists.

“Not the kind that can win a battle. I know you’re tough, but-”

“Last time you left me behind Hue died!”

“He didn’t die; he just got injured.”

“He almost died! And Ferdie!”

I glance at the others and see them looking over at us.

“Juniper,” Sylvain says in a soothing voice. “I’m sorry but you can’t fight in a battle. We would be terrible grown ups if we let you. Your magic just-”

With a frustrated cry, she turns and throws her hands out towards a rocky ledge on the side of the road. A black hole of magic bursts to life in the air, sucking in the energy around it for a split-second before ripping the shelf of rock to pieces and raining gravel down around us.

I freeze and stare at her as she turns around and glares defiantly at us. “What the fuck?” I breathe.

“Was that… was that a Luna spell?” Sylvain asks her.

“I know a fire one too,” she replies and before we can stop her, she thrusts her hand out again and blasts the pile of shattered rocks aside with a bolt of white-hot fire that looks like it could melt through a great knight’s armor.

“Alright!” Sylvain says nervously. “Alright, we see. You have magic. Let’s stop firing spells, though, okay? We don’t want to burn down the countryside.”

“I can fight,” she insists.

Byleth starts to walk over but I motion for her to stay back and she nods.

“I’ll keep her safe,” Ferdinand says.

“No,” Juniper says, shying away from me a step. “I’m not going. No!”

“Juniper, listen to me. I’m giving you a mission, kid.”

“Mission?” she says.

“The capitol city’s defenses are compromised and with all of us here, it’s vulnerable. We need to send a couple warriors back to safeguard it until we return. You are one of our few ranged fighters so your spells are going to be valuable. You need range to defend a city,” I tell her. She looks at me doubtfully and I continue in the kind of frank, stern voice I would use talking to a soldier in my battalion. “Your job is going to be to defend the city. Those Who Slither in the Dark might send soldiers there to attack it while we’re gone. Ferdie’s still recovering and he won't be able to fight for a while so he will need your help. Do you understand?”

“Felix-”

“I’m not patronizing you. I am giving you a serious mission. If you want to be a warrior, you need to accept your mission and do everything in your power to accomplish it, okay? Are you willing to do that?”

She looks furious but she nods reluctantly all the same.

“Good. We’ll be back soon. Make sure the city is still standing when we get there,” I say.

She turns on her heel and walks away over to our wyverns, refusing to so much as look at me. I look at Sylvain for reassurance that I said the right thing and he nods.

“Be safe on the road,” I tell Ferdie.

“You too. It galls me to not march with you,” he replies, his voice calm but thick with restrained anger. “I hate being so… so useless.”

“Someone has to protect the kid. That’s not useless.”

He nods curtly. “If you-” He pauses and clears his throat. “If you encounter Hubert, make sure he is not taken into custody. Please. I cannot bear for him to rot in a jail cell for the rest of his life. Not after what he has suffered and especially not after what he did for us all.”

I hesitate for a moment, struggling with my own conflicted thoughts on the matter. Then I answer, “You have my word.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy friends! Sorry its been a while since I posted a chapter. I made the mistake of skipping ahead to write the last few chapters of Valerian because I was stuck on this last battle. But I'm plowing ahead now! The next chapter will be battle time! And after that, I'll be wrapping this up quickly since half of the end is already written. Ive been crying my way through writing the epilogue for days so I'm excited to share it with you! (happy tears, guys. don't worry. I'm not a tragic endings person)


	23. The Elites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final showdown!
> 
> In which Felix is a badass (but still not as badass as Byleth)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooo boy, I have been agonizing over this chapter for a week. I'm just gonna yeet it out now and move forward! Sorry it took so long...

##  23 – The Elites

###  **Felix**

So this is Nemesis, the King of Liberation, the warrior who gave Seiros herself a run for her money.

Hmph. He looks like shit. A bit rusty too, given the stiff way he holds himself and the slowness of his movements as he dismounts and draws his blade. I suppose being dead for centuries takes a toll.

“Now!” Byleth shouts and I guide our wyvern to dive down and swoop across the ground low enough that we can leap from the saddle.

Our strategy is the good old Byleth special: have the others engage the front lines and keep them busy while she and I dash through to cut the head off the snake and take out the enemy commander. Dimitri and Sylvain were always good at creating space for us and Byleth and I were unarguably the fastest fighters, capable of slicing our way like lightning through a battlefield. This time we don’t have the boar to tear to pieces everything around him, but we have Hilda, who even bloodied, traumatized and exhausted, is still a formidable boar in her own right.

It feels good to return to a familiar plan I’ve executed countless times. This time too we have backup from Claude who is managing to corral the flow of battle and carve a path for us by having his wyvern drop flaming branches and logs into the undead army to cut them off into sections that are easy to plow through. 

Nemesis laughs as Byleth and I charge him – not a good sign.

His Sword of the Creator flares with red light and he stares us down unflinchingly as we split and attack from opposite directions. Byleth’s sword has twice the range of mine and she reaches him first. But the second her blade clashes with his, a piercing ring shatters the air, so sharp and loud it makes my ears feel like they’re going to bleed.

A shockwave bursts from Nemesis, throwing Byleth off her feet and slamming her down against the ground. He turns to her, recklessly baring his back to me and I seize my chance, diving forward and bringing my sword slicing down on him to slash through his spine and cripple him.

But my sword ricochets off of him like I struck a stone wall, knocking me off balance and nearly sending my weapon flying from my hands.

“Fall back!” Byleth orders, leaping to her feet and retreating. “Felix! Fall back! We can’t attack him!”

Nemesis watches as we scramble away like foxes fleeing a wolf and makes no move to follow. Instead he turns his attention to the battle and waits for his soldiers to do his dirty work.

“What the hell happened?” I ask as we duck for cover behind a boulder.

“He’s channeling some kind of magic to protect him! We won’t be able to get at him while its active,” she explains. “I could feel it coming from the Ten Elites. We have to take them down first!”

“Shit,” I curse, looking over the boulder at the tide of grisly walking corpses descending on our front line. “Our whole plan was taking him down so we wouldn’t have to fight the others!”

“We’ll have to try to pick off the Elites.”

“That’s not going to be easy.”

“When does anything ever go smoothly for us?” she says.

“Good point.”

“You and I can still flank them. Riegan is nearest to us; let’s take him out. We’ll have the advantage over Failnaught if we can get close fast enough.”

I take a deep breath to steady myself and exhale it. “I wish I’d brought the Aegis Shield with me. It’s so damn clunky though and we needed to travel fast.”

“You don’t need a shield if you don’t get hit,” Byleth says. “Just don’t get sloppy.”

“You know what, professor? Fuck you.”

Byleth gives me a fond smile. “Yeah, fuck you too, Felix. Come on. Let’s go!”

  
  


###  **Ferdinand**

“Ferdie,” Juniper says insistently.

I sigh, my patience already worn thin, for I feel anger at being forced to abandon our friends even more intensely than she does.

“Ferdie!” she says again.

“Yes?”

“Felix doesn’t want me to go on a mission. He just wants me to not fight.”

Should I lie to her? No. Hubert always gave her the truth without hesitation. I shall do the same.

“What he wants is for you to be safe. That is a burden you must bear. When someone loves you they will try to protect you, even if you do not want their protection. Sometimes it will hurt. But you must know that it is because they care about you.”

“What if he gets hurt? What if Sylvain gets hurt?”

“They are some of the strongest warriors I have ever known. I am sure they will prevail and return relatively unscathed.”

“Un-what?”

“Unhurt.”

“You use big words.”

“That is how a noble is taught to speak, except in Faerghus, where it seems good manners are less emphasized. At any rate, I am confident that Felix and Sylvain will be alright,” I say. “Do not worry about them. They will meet us in Fhirdiad soon.”

“Why can’t we go back and watch from up here?” she asks.

“Because long range spells could still possibly reach us.”

“Valkyria is fast!”

“I promised Hubert I would keep you safe, Juniper. Even if you hate me for it, I must protect you or I will break my promise to him.”

“Why did he go?”

“He had work to do. He had to save other people who were kidnapped like you were.”

“We could’ve helped him.”

“He does not like being protected or helped any more than you do,” I reply a little bitterly.

“Please, Ferdie. Please turn around. Please. I won’t fight! I’ll just watch. We’ve gotta be there in case they get hurt!”

My heart is pleading the same thing to me and I wince, trying to restrain my impulsiveness and not be a fool. I have been foolhardy enough on this mission. When will I learn my lesson?

  
  


###  **Felix**

Grunts, cries, screams, ringing metal, scraping steel, blasting magic, screeching wyverns, frantic horses… You learn as a warrior to not let your head spin in the chaos, to not lose yourself in the swarming sounds of battle that claw at your focus, threatening to distract you just for the one split-second it takes to get killed.

It took me a long time to achieve that desensitization – longer than I’d ever admit. I’ve always been good at keeping a blank expression at the sight of violence, but less good at actually shutting out the fear.

Our battle outside Shambhala had been nothing but fighting on instinct in the dark, adrenaline and a lifetime of carefully honed reflexes carrying me through without conscious thought. But this… this is different. This is strategic. This takes awareness and caution, and in the daylight I can see every threat more clearly. I can see the arrow that zips past Sylvain’s head just shy of his ear, the rider that charges down Ashe to get close enough that he can’t fire at him and is forced to draw a sword instead.

My focus is not what it was two and a half years ago because I have so much more to lose now. Each little fleeting brush with death tugs at my composure and tempts me to look away from my opponent for a moment to make sure that that arrow, that rider, that spell did not just take from me someone I love.

It is Byleth’s reassuring presence beside me that is holding my focus together so that I can fight my best. Her single-minded ferocity is always inspiring to behold. She plows through enemies like a scythe, and it’s not just the Sword of the Creator that’s to credit for her power. In anyone else’s hands it would just be a hunk of bone, metal and flame. It’s her ruthless precision and strength. 

She and I have carved our way through battlefields enough times that it helps ground me to have her at my side now.

Our joint attacks stagger Riegan and I get the drop on him, plunging my sword deep into his chest. I kick his body off my blade and grimace at the horrible stench of rotting flesh that clings to these corpse warriors. They hardly shed blood as they die, but a foul kind of dark magic I’ve never encountered before seeps from them, making my skin prickle and stomach turn. 

“Six more!” Byleth shouts and then gasps and points behind me. I turn around to see one of Nemesis’s soldiers transform into a demonic beast with a bloodcurdling scream. The beast looks over at our front line troops and snarls, charging at them. 

“Come on!” I cry and race towards the beast. We can’t let it reach the others. They are already fighting desperately to not be overwhelmed by the horde of soldiers. The beast will tip the scales and they’ll be lucky to make it out alive. “We have to stop it!”

Byleth is fast at my heels and we reach the beast just in time, throwing ourselves at it to slice our blades across its hind legs, causing it to stumble to a halt and rear around to face us. It is one of those huge, scaly bastards, almost dragon-like and vicious as all hell.

Dodging to the side, Byleth very narrowly evades the terrifying snap of its razor-sharp teeth. I’ve seen those teeth rip apart an armored soldier like a rag doll and those strong jaws latch onto the wall of a wooden barricade and tear it down, heedless of spikes piercing its mouth. It’s not a good way to go. And Sylvain would never forgive me if I died to one of the things he hates and fears most.

We better take this thing down fast.

As the Sword of the Creator extends into a whip and lashes across the beast’s neck, strangling it, it roars and thrashes. I leap forward and plunge my blade into its chest, wrenching it into a small gap between its armored scales and throwing my whole weight into the thrust. I twist the sword, ripping at the beast’s flesh and puncturing its lungs. It breaks free of Byleth’s stranglehold and rears up on its back paws.

Oh shit.

As its body lunges up, my sword remains buried in its chest and as I grip the hilt, I find my feet lifted off the ground.

Shit! It’s going to crash back down and I’ll be crushed to pieces beneath it.

Deciding that surrendering my blade is the lesser of two evils in this situation, I let go and dive out of the way. The beast plummets down but as it does, its tail sweeps around and the edge of its barbs rip across my waist, tearing through my armor and raking across my skin. I feel the burn of poison mixing with the pain and I clamp my hand over the wound, yelling, “Byleth! Restore!”

She leaps over the head of the fallen beast and runs to my side. Her heal spells, although not on the same level as Mercedes’s, are still a hell of a lot more powerful than mine and she cures the poison and seals up the wound in a matter of moments. It’s a rough, hurried job and I can feel the tension in the skin and the rippling pain. I know that if I strain it wrong, it could tear open again and be even harder to patch up.

But we don’t have time for more extensive treatment. The second the beast is dead, we are swarmed by a group of soldiers. Byleth holds them off as I try to push aside the head and neck of the beast to get to my sword that is still buried to the hilt in its chest.

“A little help?” I say.

“Busy!” Byleth yells.

Not for the first time, I wish I could take a turn with the Sword of the Creator without it doing severe damage to me. Other relics I can wield but with its crest stone missing, the legendary sword is infuriatingly out of the question.

As soldiers drop down around us, I take stock of my options – a shattered spear, half-broken steel sword, or a bow. With a growl of frustration, I grab the bow and sling the sheath of arrows over my back.

“I’ll hold them off!” I say and start shooting arrows like my life depends on it. My first few are frantic and rushed and they go awry of their targets by an embarrassingly wide berth. 

_ “Focus. Shoot with the rhythm of your breath. Follow the motion of your target.” _ Ashe’s words, spoken to me once during a hunting trip, run through my mind and I concentrate on the advice.

My next arrow strikes the charging soldier in the leg, staggering him, and I follow it up swiftly with one to his neck.

Smiling in satisfaction, I nock another arrow and continue to pick off anything that gets too close while Byleth digs her sword under the beast’s neck and uses it to leverage its body up. When she lifts it enough, I dive down and grab hold of my sword. Planting my feet against the beast’s scales, I push off to help me wrench it free. The effort sends pain shooting through my body from the wound in my waist, but I ignore it.

“Any day now!” Byleth says, her voice hoarse as she heaves for breath.

I finally manage to free the blade and I scramble out from under the beast. Byleth swears as she lets it drop to the ground and shakes a cramp out of her arm. Jumping up onto its neck, she runs gracefully up onto the top of its body and surveys the battlefield. 

I try to do the same but I’m too short to see the full scope of it. I can tell, however, that Nemesis’s forces are rapidly diminishing. I catch sight of a flash of red and see Sylvain galloping towards us, Ashe sitting beside him in the saddle of his horse and shooting anything that comes within a few meters of them.

“Nice work!” Sylvain says as he sees the demonic beast. 

Byleth leaps down from the back of the beast and says, “Only three Elites left! We can do this! Come on! Sylvain, Felix you take on Goneril. Ashe just try to distract Daphnel; don’t fight him yet! I’ll be back shortly. I’m going to take down Blaiddyd.”

“Don’t you want some backup, professor?” Sylvain says.

“I’ve been sparring with Dima for years. I’ve got this!” she replies and dashes off.

“Let’s go!” Ashe swings down from the saddle to attack on foot and I climb up behind Sylvain as we bolt towards Goneril.

It occurs to me as I see his Freikugel light up with the mythic Apocalyptic Flame that I am, for all intents and purposes, getting my duel with Holst. At the very least, I’m getting some good practice for it.

“Let’s show them how it’s done!” Sylvain shouts confidently as we converge on Goneril. He reins in his horse and I jump down from the saddle, falling back a step and skirting around Goneril as Sylvain attacks him from the front. Normally he would have the advantage of range, but Freikugel’s axehead is large enough that it nearly evens the playing field. 

Sylvain is smart enough not to clash directly with him anyways. He toys with Goneril instead, expertly guiding his horse to wheel around Goneril, narrowly avoiding sweeps of the axe. He hovers close enough to keep Goneril engaged with him, but is careful to remain out of range, even if just by a matter of inches.

“Too slow!” he yells as the great, lumbering warrior misses another strike by a hair’s breadth. “Is that all you’ve got, you rotted bastard?”

The corpse doesn’t speak, but its motions grow faster, fueled obviously by rage. All this gives me the opportunity I need to study his armor and patterns of movements to determine where to strike and how to approach.

After a moment, I see my opening and pounce forward with the speed of a wild cat, slicing with perfect precision the small leather strap attaching Goneril’s pauldron to his suit of armor. The metal plate shifts and I instantly stab my blade into the gap, twisting it to dig right under his shoulder blade. A rasping shriek comes from his throat and he sags, his arms lowering slightly. Sylvain seizes the chance to swing his lance at Freikugel and knock it from Goneril’s grasp.

The second it hits the ground, the flames still licking hungrily across its head, I seize it and lunge at Goneril. The axe is heavy as fuck, making me wonder in awe how the hell Hilda wields it. But I muster up all my strength and swing it at Goneril’s head. It bites through his armor and hacks his head clean from his shoulders. The momentum of the swing overcomes me and pulls me along its trajectory with it, sending me sprawling down to the muddy ground.

Scrambling up from the mire to my feet, I grin at Sylvain and triumphantly shout, “HA!”

“That was sexy, Fee,” he says with a wink. “Especially the part where you ended up face-down in this disgusting swamp.”

“Shut up,” I say, annoyed at him ruining what was, in my opinion, the coolest thing I have ever done.

Sylvain holds out his hand and pulls me back up into the saddle behind him. I scan the battlefield and see Byleth wrenching the Sword of the Creator out of Blaiddyd’s fallen corpse.

Ashe is busy shooting and evading Daphnel, and when Sylvain and I turn to help him, the three of us manage to strike down the Elite in minutes.

“Byleth!” I yell. “That’s it!”

I glance up the slope at Nemesis, who is still standing stock-still, watching the chaos below him calmly. It’s an unsettling sight, to say the least.

From atop Sylvain’s horse, I can see the battlefield better and I take stock of the bodies lying in heaps across the ground. The Knights of Seiros are down to twenty soldiers, the Brigid Knights number about twelve. Damn. That’s about half our forces. But Nemesis’s troops have been decimated as well. By my rough count, there are about twenty left.

“Ashe!” Byleth says, returning to us. “You command the remaining knights and have them hold a line to cordon off the enemies away from Nemesis. The rest of us will go take him down.”

He nods resolutely and Sylvain jumps off his horse, handing Ashe the reins. 

As Sylvain, Byleth and I approach Nemesis, Claude swoops down from the skies and Byleth calls up to him, “Where’s Hilda?”

“Wounded! She had to fall back!” he replies.

“Bring Petra then!”

“Sure thing, teach!” he yells and flies off.

The three of us slog up the muddy, gore-soaked hill towards Nemesis and by the time we are within a fifty feet of him, Claude and Petra are back at our sides, having dismounted from the wyvern who leaps up into the air to circle above us.

“What’s the plan?” Sylvain asks. 

“Claude, you cover me with your bow while I attack. The rest of you hold back. I’m just going to see if the magic shield is broken. If it is, we will regroup and attack together,” Byleth says.

Claude nods and nocks an arrow to Failnaught, which Dimitri must have returned to him. 

Byleth wipes a splatter of blood off her face and takes a deep breath, steeling herself. Then she springs into action, charging down Nemesis as Claude distracts him with a rapid onslaught of arrows.

Nemesis dodges the arrows with astonishing dexterity and dread creeps over me as I realize that my earlier assessment of him being slow and rusty is far from accurate. I’ve never seen anyone move that fast and precisely, not even Byleth.

“Holy shit,” Sylvain murmurs.

“Indeed,” Petra agrees.

“Are you wounded?” I ask her and she nods, holding out her arm, where a deep cut is slashed across her skin. 

I close it up with a healing spell and she smiles at me. “You have my thanks.”

“Anytime,” I reply.

“I am glad I came from Brigid. You would not be winning without me, I think.”

“Your knights are a hell of a lot stronger than the Seiros knights,” I say.

“That is thanks to Ashe.”

“She’s closing in on him!” Sylvain says and we return our attention to Byleth.

A brilliant flash of scarlet light flares as her Sword of the Creator meets his and this time, she is not rebounded with the same force. The strength of his parry does stagger her, but she stays on her feet. Claude manages to get an arrow in and it strikes Nemesis in the arm, piercing his skin.

The shield is gone.

As Byleth falls back to regroup with us, Nemesis reaches over and yanks the arrow from his shoulder, throwing it on the ground without so much as a flinch.

“Feeble creatures!” he snarls, his voice booming out across the battlefield. “Now it’s your turn to die.”


	24. The Three Crests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final final showdown (this is it, guys, I promise. No more stressful violence, only soulful conversations, tender lovemaking and story arc resolution from here on out)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ask, "Why is Nemesis so fucking hard to kill? He wasn't even a tough final boss?" I must answer that this chapter is based on my very first FE3H playthrough (golden deer) in which I was laughably, pitifully under-leveled and Nemesis cut through my team like a knife through butter. I got down to one last unit, with like 5 HP, and he didn't have enough damage to kill Nemesis, then he got the luckiest fucking crit of all time and I beat the game without having to restart.
> 
> So yeah. That is why I am terrified of Nemesis.

##  24 – The Three Crests

###  **Felix**

We outnumber Nemesis five to one but that number becomes four far too soon.

Claude goes out in a blaze of glory, though. Already wounded from single-handedly taking down one of the Elites, he can only take one hit before he is forced to fall back lest his profuse injuries slow him down enough he slips up and gets himself killed. But damn does he make that hit count.

As the five of us leap into action, attacking from different angles in a coordinated assault against his nearly flawless defenses, Nemesis roars, “You weaklings! None of you have the courage to challenge me in lone combat?”

That’s when Claude has his moment. 

“We’ve fought hard to forge these bonds so that none of us need to fight alone!” he yells, dodging the tail-end of Nemesis’s whip and firing an arrow up straight up into the air. 

“Pathetic! Every single one of you,” Nemesis snarls.

Claude throws himself at Nemesis recklessly enough that Sylvain cries out in alarm and tries to make it to his side in time to defend him.

“Together is HOW WE WIN!” Claude shouts and stumbles, opening himself up to attack. Nemesis whips the Sword of the Creator out and it wraps around Failnaught, throwing it from Claude’s hands. But at the same moment as Nemesis lunges forward for the strike, the arrow Claude shot seemingly at random into the air comes streaking back down, glowing with relic light, and slices deeply through Nemesis’s skull, jutting out through his left eye socket.

My jaw practically drops at the precision of the shot and the cleverness of the set up. But it was still reckless and as the head of the Sword of the Creator wrenches back, its tip cuts across Claude’s chest, splattering blood across Sylvain who reaches him just in time to catch him as he falls.

Nemesis’s attack, the strike of the arrow, and Claude falling from his injuries happen in such rapid succession they are practically simultaneous.

“Sylvain, get him out of here!” Byleth orders.

Sylvain obeys, slinging Claude over his shoulder and running out of the range of Nemesis’s blade. Claude whistles for his wyvern and as the creature rockets down from the skies to rescue him, Sylvain casts a quick healing spell on Claude’s chest.

With a fierce battle cry, Petra charges Nemesis, counting on his blindness to afford her an opening. Following her initiative, I jump in to attack alongside her. To my horror, he parries both our strikes with ease and as we dash back to avoid the counterattack, he rips the arrow from his eye, streaking dark, sludge-like blood across his face, and throws it aside.

For the first time, he steps forward from his position and goes on the offensive.

“How are we supposed to kill him if an arrow through his brain did nothing?” I yell to Byleth.

“We have no choice but to keep trying!” she replies and blocks a swing with her own Sword of the Creator. Petra and I attack with renewed fury, harmonizing our strikes with Byleth’s, and Petra manages to land a solid hit on Nemesis’s back.

It does not even stagger him. 

I follow up a split-second after her and he dodges my attack effortlessly, his speed and ferocity only increased from the beginning of the fight, rather than flagging from his wounds.

What the fuck is it going to take to kill this bastard?

A yell from behind us causes me to look over my shoulder and I see Ashe galloping towards us.

“THEY’RE RISING AGAIN!” he hollers.

“What?” I fall back a few steps out of Nemesis’s range and watch in terror as some of the fallen soldiers haul themselves up and pick up their weapons, writhing clouds of dark magic streaming from the ground to wrap around their ankles and propel them forward.

“Petra!” Byleth says as she faces off with Nemesis, blocking his attacks and creating space for us to regroup. “Guard our backs! You have to hold them off!” 

There are at least a score of them now between us and the rest of our troops. There is no way Petra can hold them off on her own.

“I will!” Petra shouts and charges at them. Even though there is a hitch in her step from a wound on her leg, she still moves with power and purpose, her silver sword a glorious, shining blur cutting through the enemies.

And now there are only three of us and Nemesis does not even look winded.

Sylvain and I move to fight side-by-side and double down our attacks on Nemesis, focusing now more on giving Byleth space to strike, since lesser weapons than the Sword of the Creator seem to be of little use.

I hear Petra’s battle cries behind us and the noise of the fight. But none of the risen soldiers reach us and I know that by some miracle she is holding them off on her own. 

Each parry, counterattack and strike from Nemesis makes my blood boil hotter with rage. I have craved this kind of challenge my whole life but in this moment my fury is as directed at myself as it is at him. Because here is the greatest, most legendary opponent anyone could face and I am worthless in this fight against him. I can barely land a hit on him and when I do, the slice of my blade might as well be a papercut. Most of my attacks he dodges, no matter how fast I force my body to move and my mind to think.

Sylvain is stronger than me but slower and his attacks hold even less chance of hitting Nemesis. Only Byleth seems to be making headway but even with Sylvain and I fighting to give her openings, it still feels like an eternity in between those opportunities.

Then the ground beneath us starts to shudder and burn, dark magic frothing like steam from the pools of water, twisting around our legs and slowing our movements. I feel some kind of poison seeping into my skin, sending currents of ice-cold pain through me.

I am about to shout to Byleth that we might need to fall back when two things happen in the span of seconds:

Byleth’s Sword of the Creator finds its opening and thrusts into Nemesis’s gut.

Nemesis’s Sword of the Creator whips out to knock aside Sylvain’s lance and buries its flaming head deeply and viciously into Sylvain’s chest..

“No!” I gasp and lunge towards him.

Byleth wrenches her sword free and goes to strike the killing blow but Nemesis manages to block her even though he roars in pain.

“Sylvain!” I cry and drop to my knees beside him. I don’t care that Nemesis is still on his feet fighting and Byleth is facing him alone now. I don’t care about anything in this world except focusing to summon every shred of healing magic I have to save Sylvain.

He chokes and looks up at me with frantic eyes.

“I’ve got you,” I say, clamping my hand over the wound. But his chest is torn to pieces and already soaked in so much blood I don’t even know where to start.

“Byleth!” I scream. “Please!”

I can’t do this. I can’t heal him. I’m not skilled enough. I don’t even know if Byleth is, but she is better than me at least. He’s going to die in seconds if I can’t seal up the damage to his internal organs and keep his heart pumping and lungs intact.

“BYLETH!”

“Hold him back!” she cries and kneels down beside me.

It kills me to leave Sylvain’s side. Everything in me tells me to stay and keep trying, hoping against hope that something I can do can save him.

But we will die to Nemesis’s blade even before Sylvain bleeds to death if I don’t defend us. Byleth’s healing spells are Sylvain’s only chance now and in order for him to have that chance, somehow I have to keep Nemesis at bay.

Jumping to my feet, I run at Nemesis, a savage yell I hardly recognize as my own tearing from my throat. He laughs raggedly, blood dripping down from his ashen lips. 

I can’t risk my blade shattering by blocking the full force of the Sword of the Creator. I have to be faster, smarter.

His first attack I dodge, but the dark magic frothing on the ground pulls at me and the effort it takes to slog through it strains my whole body. I feel the tenuously patched wound in my side rip and pain explodes in my mind.

NO! Don’t hesitate. Don’t stumble!

I stay on my feet. I stay focused, letting the pain assault my mind with the futility of water breaking against a flood wall. 

Another strike. A step closer.

I refuse to let my concentration turn to it, but in the back of mind there is a small, desperate voice begging the goddess to let Sylvain survive this.

Another dodge, another tear in my skin, ripping, bleeding, draining my energy and strength.

Nemesis is bloodied, as strained and desperate as I am.

I can do this. I can hold him off.

Again! Faster! Try again, Felix!

With a growl that builds into a roar, I evade one of his lumbering attacks and lunge in close, forcing my way through the grasp of the poisoned magic eating away at my skin.

One strike: a swift slit across his sword arm, slowing his next attack.

Another strike: across his neck, deep enough to strike bone.

The Sword of the Creator drops and I thrust my blade straight and true into Nemesis’s heart. 

The effort nearly makes me black out and I stagger back, seizing the Sword of the Creator from Nemesis’s hands and hurling it out of reach. Even in the brief second it touches my hands, blinding red light and static explodes in my mind. Heaving for breath, clinging onto consciousness, I reach for my blade to wrench it free and slice Nemesis’s head from his shoulders.

“You-” he sputters, blood leaking from his mouth. “You can’t-”

He brings his fist around and slams it into my wounded side, paralyzing me with pain.

“Only the Flame Crest can kill me. Not your pathetic blade,” he gasps and seizes the hilt of my sword. In one fluid movement, he pulls it free and slices it down on me.

I feel something break and tear and the shock that floods my mind keeps me from realizing for a moment what it is until I try to move my sword arm and can’t.

Falling to my knees, I look down at my arm and see it severed at the elbow. Disbelief so strong I can’t process what just happened overwhelms me and I glance up at Nemesis, who has dropped my blade and is hunched over, healing magic glowing in his hand as he clamps it over his wounds and seals them up.

A wyvern’s screech splits the air. A familiar scream, high-pitched and frantic. 

The shock gives way to agony and I black out.

  
  


###  **Ferdinand**

Oh goddess, how could it have come to this?

The battlefield below us is all but a graveyard, the troops that are still on their feet struggling to fight amidst the corpses littered across the steaming ground.

“Where are they? Where?” Juniper cries frantically.

I keep Valkyria flying high above the chaos and my heart aches at the conflicting feelings pulling it apart at the seams. I should not have returned here, putting Juniper’s life in danger after I swore so solemnly to protect it. A child should not witness the horrors that are going on below us. But at the same time, the balance of this battle is obviously hanging by a thread. I doubt there is anything I can do to tip those scales, but perhaps I can at least save my friends.

Juniper gasps and says, “My magic! I feel my magic!”

“Where?” I ask, assuming she is talking about Byleth.

She points towards the eastern side of the battlefield and I guide Valkyria to fly in that direction. As we grow closer, the sight that meets us makes my heart leap into my throat.

It truly is Nemesis, wounded, staggered, but alive still. At his feet lies Felix, either dead or unconscious. And nearby Byleth is crouching over Sylvain, whose body is a mess of blood.

“Ferdie!” Juniper says. “We have to save them!”

My mind races to analyze our options as Valkyria circles closer.

“You can fly Valkyria, right?” I ask Juniper. “Sylvain taught you how to use the reins?”

“Yes!”

“Listen closely! I am going to put Felix and Sylvain in the saddle and you are going to fly away with them immediately and take them somewhere safe. Can you do that?” 

“Yes!”

Am I asking far too much from her? Do I have another choice?

I could flee away with Juniper kicking and screaming and leave them to die but keep her unequivocally safe. Or I can be a fool, a reckless fool, and try to save them.

This is wrong. I should never endanger the life of a child.

Yet can I live with myself if I abandon Sylvain and Felix? Can I live with myself if something happens to Juniper?

“You have to leave immediately,” I tell her urgently. “I do not care what happens. As soon as Sylvain and Felix are here in the saddle, you must leave. You must! Do you understand me?”

“Yes! Hurry!” She points down at Nemesis and I see the glow of healing magic extinguish in his hands. He picks up the Sword of the Creator and takes a stumbling step towards Byleth who is on her knees beside Sylvain.

Bracing myself to jump from Valkyria’s back, I grab my lance and take a deep breath. “Hold her steady,” I tell Juniper. “And when I say so, you leave. I am trusting you to obey and keep yourself and Sylvain and Felix safe.”

“I know.”

The wyvern swoops low to the ground and I leap from the saddle. The jolt of hitting the ground momentarily winds me, for my body is still infuriatingly weak and lightheaded.

“Byleth!” I shout. “Behind you!”

She looks over her shoulder at Nemesis approaching and leaps to her feet, snatching up her sword.

“Take Sylvain to Claude! He is down the road west of here with a healer!” she cries and staggers forward to attack Nemesis. “He’ll survive but he needs more care!”

“Hold Valkyria still!” I order Juniper and run over to Sylvain. It is all I can do to drag him back over. As I sling him over the wyvern’s back, I notice that there is a gruesome wound on his chest that is only barely fused together.

Heaving for breath, I run over to Felix, sparing a glance at Byleth to see her trading blows with Nemesis. He is truly a terrifying sight to behold. His body is slashed and mutilated from more wounds than I can count and although he is strained and exhausted, he attacks with a daunting fury and power nonetheless. It is all Byleth can do to hold him at bay. Such an extensive healing spell on Sylvain must have sapped her energy. She is barely able to hold Nemesis back.

When I reach Felix, I gasp in shock at the sight of his severed sword arm and the blood soaking his waist. Tearing off my belt, I cinch it tight around his arm in a makeshift tourniquet. Then I rip off my vest and bind it around the stump to try to block the bleeding.

“Hold on, Felix,” I plead. “Hold on just a little longer.”

He is easier to carry than Sylvain but I am still faint by the time I haul him up onto Valkyria’s back.

“Go! Fly in that direction until you see a large, pale wyvern and the man with the yellow armor! There will be a healer there!” I tell Juniper, pointing westwards.

“Ferdie!” Juniper cries. “Wait!”

I slap Valkyria’s rump and she leaps into the air, knocking me back a step with the force of her wings. She cannot bear me along with them, and I cannot leave Byleth to fight alone. She is barely holding ground against Nemesis.

“Go help Petra!” Byleth yells over her shoulder at me, and I turn to see the troops bearing down on us, clouds of dark magic swirling around them. I do not see Petra fighting among them. Oh goddess, did she fall too? Please let it not be so.

Raising my lance, I try to run forward to charge at the troops but the pools of water in the swampy ground grab at my feet and trip me. I can feel the tendrils snaking up my leg and seeping into my skin.

I haul myself back to my feet and watch as the approaching soldiers pick up their pace, descending on me like a pack of wolves. There is no way I can defeat all ten of them, weak as I am. And yet, I must find a way. I will not back down!

With a yell, I turn to meet them, throwing myself into their midst to try to hold them off from reaching Byleth.

Weak as it is, there are still years of training and instinct ingrained into my body and I manage to kill two of the soldiers in a matter of seconds. They regroup and attack with doubled force, overwhelming me in an onslaught of attacks.

Then all at once, the soldiers collapse like puppets with their strings cut. As they fall to the ground, the magic seeping around my feet dissipates and the air clears. All around me, every shout, clank of weapons, and scream falls silent. On the other side of the battlefield, the scattered remnants of our soldiers stumble towards each other.

My legs buckle and I end up on my ass in the mud, gasping for breath and struggling to process what happened. Then I look over at Byleth and see her still locked in combat with Nemesis. Her energy is severely flagging and she cannot get an opening to strike. Nemesis himself is at the end of his will too but neither can strike the killing blow on the other. They are too evenly matched.

Perhaps if I can distract him enough to give Byleth an opening… 

Hauling myself to my feet, I run towards him.

“No! Ferdinand, go! You can’t fight him!” Byleth cries. 

“Then I will die trying!” I shout.

Nemesis spits out a curse and lunges at Byleth before I can reach her, slashing out the chain of the Sword of the Creator to wrap around the hilt of her own sword and wrench it from her hands. Without missing a beat, she throws out her hands and fires a spell at him. It hits him square in the chest and he stumbles back a step.

In that opening, I try to attack, but the edge of the Sword of the Creator comes whipping around and it is all I can do to dodge it in time before it rakes through me.

Byleth tries to fire another spell, but only weak flames come from her palms. She cries out in frustration and tries again, to no avail as Nemesis laughs and steps closer, forcing her to fall back further.

“Run!” I tell Byleth and jump between her and Nemesis.

He towers over me, raising the Sword of the Creator, and even as I raise my lance to block it, I know that I am going to die.

Byleth grabs my arm and shoves me out of the way, sending me sprawling into the mud. She raises both hands and grits her teeth with a pained expression. Forcing out a blast of fire from her palms, she blasts back Nemesis’s blade a second before it can hit her. 

But I fear that was the last attack she is capable of, and I think she knows it too. Stumbling back a few steps, she heaves for breath, hunched over, looking around frantically for a weapon.

Nemesis advances, but suddenly stops and looks upwards. I scramble around and follow his gaze to see Valkyria hovering ten feet from the ground behind us. Juniper is gripping the reins with one hand and holding her other out towards Nemesis.

“So you bear it too,” Nemesis murmurs, raising the Sword of the Creator. “You will die for it, child.”

Terror floods my mind and I open my mouth to yell at Juniper to leave, but before I can, she screams and magic crackles in the air.

Two pulses of light like twin stars burst to life within Nemesis, burning out through his chest. They flicker eerily for an instant then explode, ripping him apart from the inside out in a violent, thrashing cloud of dark magic. A horrible smell assaults my senses – sulphur, blood and rotten flesh. 

As Nemesis falls to the ground, Byleth staggers forward, grabs his Sword of the Creator and slams it downwards, slicing his head from his shoulders. With a shuddering gasp, she falls to her hands and knees and drops the sword. Then she collapses, unconscious.

I look over to beg Juniper to leave and take Sylvain and Felix to the healer, but Valkyria is already soaring up into the sky flying westwards at full speed. 

After a dazed, dizzy second, I remember Petra and know that I must go find her, should she be fallen on the battlefield behind us. But as soon as I try to stand, the shock wears off from my body and I glance down to see several wounds staining my clothes with blood. In my desperation in the fight with the soldiers, I must have not noticed them. 

I make it a few steps then end up on my knees, my head spinning. I was already faint; blood loss is not going to help. Clamping my hand over the deepest wound on my right leg, I try to think of what to do, but my mind is too hazy to be coherent.

A glimpse of movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention and I look over to see a tall, familiar figure walking over, steps slow and limping, a sword held weakly in his hand.

“Ferdinand,” Hubert gasps. “I’m so sorry. I was too late. I should have-”

He drops the sword and slumps down beside me in the mud, panting for breath and staring at me with unhidden fear and sorrow in his eyes. “I was too late,” he says again.

“It’s over,” I murmur. My eyelids feel so heavy I cannot help but to close them. But in the darkness, I feel even more faint and reeling.

Weary, trembling arms close around me and I fall back into them, resting my head on his chest and struggling to stay conscious. I feel a kiss pressed against the top of my head then gentle gloved fingers brushing the hair out of my eyes. He kisses my temple, my forehead and then, light and fleeting, his lips brush mine.

I force myself to open my eyes so I can see him and reassure myself that this is not some feverish daydream. He is gazing out at the battlefield with a pained expression as he cradles me against his chest.

“I was too late. All I could do was take down the mage summoning the poison magic,” he says numbly. “And even that exhausted all of my energy. I would have been useless in the fight against Nemesis, and yet it pains me to have been absent, knowing that in my ignorance and foolishness, I left you to face him alone. You must believe me when I say that I did not predict this would happen. I don't think anyone could have predicted such a thing.”

“Hubert, you need to leave,” I whisper. “They will take you prisoner.”

“It would be pointless to leave. It was pointless to try in the first place, apparently,” he replies.

“But-”

“If I leave, I will only end up returning. I will spare myself that unnecessary effort.”

“I cannot bear to see you imprisoned.”

Hubert laughs quietly. “Faerghus does not have the magic binding technology the Agarthans did. They were able to keep me locked away for years but a jail cell in Fhirdiad could not hold me for a single hour. As soon as my energy is restored, I could warp out whenever I pleased.”

“Then why did you run in the first place?”

But he does not answer. He wraps his arms around me tighter and says, “Give me a moment and I should be able to cast a heal spell. Just hold on until then. I will save you; I promise.”

I murmur a reassurance of trust but my lips struggle to form the words clearly. I close my eyes again and nestle my face into his chest. And after a few minutes, Hubert shifts and lets go of me with one hand and I feel the tingle of healing magic knitting my skin back together. 

The pain of the healing magic tasks my waning energy even further and before I know it, I am too lost in the haze in my mind to hang on any longer to consciousness. The last thing I remember is Hubert saying, “This time I truly think this war is over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to shout a huge THANK YOU to all of you awesome, encouraging people who have stuck with this long-ass story all the way here. I have had more fun writing this series than anything I've ever written before and it is due in large part to your engagement with it.  
> I hope you enjoy these last few chapters.  
> And, as always, if you have any critique/comments/advice, feel free to let me know! I have never written an action sequence of this scale and it was certainly a challenge. I'd like to learn from it as much as possible, so if there are things you think I could do better next time, let me know! I welcome all critique.
> 
> Again, THANK YOU.
> 
> Hit me up on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/lalexanderwrite) if you ever want to chat or suggest me some of your own fics to read or art to see!


	25. The Ordelia-Hevring Institute for Research & Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang drag themselves over to Derdriu for much-needed medical attention and in the safety of the Alliance's best hospital, they all begin to recover. And Felix takes some time to process what has happened to him and where he goes from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Up next: the really fucking long Ferdibert chapter where FINALLY they have the talk they've needed to have since day one)

##  25 – The Ordelia-Hevring Institute for Research & Recovery

###  **Felix**

“Hmm,” Linhardt says, poking at the scarred stump of my right arm. 

I sigh in frustration. “This is a waste of time. You obviously don’t know what you’re doing. We shouldn’t have bothered stopping here.”

“Derdriu is on the way back to Fhirdiad,” he says off-handedly. “And it is very pretty here this time of year.”

“It’s raining.”

“Exactly. It’s perfect weather because you have an excuse to stay inside.”

As he continues to examine my arm with no apparent purpose or even a great deal of attention, I ask, “Look, can you fix it or not?”

“Fix? What is there to fix? It’s not broken; it simply doesn’t exist anymore. Your friends forgot to grab it when they hauled you off that battlefield and unless you would like me to cut an arm off someone else and fuse it onto yours – which I can do, but it’ll cost you – there really isn’t anything to be done about it.”

Am I really so much less intimidating now that even Linhardt feels at ease mocking me?

“So you can’t do anything more than our battle medic could,” I say, drawing upon wells of patience I didn’t know I possessed in order to keep a level tone. “This is a waste of my time.”

“Sounds like you have a lot of time now to waste. War’s over. Your career as a mercenary or knight or whatever it is you were doing is on a temporary hiatus. I’d say all you have is time on your hands– well, hand.”

“Temporary?”

“It will take you time to learn to use your left hand, but it’s possible to train dexterity into it. One time, a cat fell asleep on my right arm and I needed to make notes in the book I was reading, but I couldn’t just move the cat, so I started writing with my left hand and after a while you could hardly tell the difference. It-”

“Get out!” I snap, losing my temper. “Out!”

Linhardt yawns. “Sorry, not yet. We need to talk.”

“I’ve had enough of talking to you.”

“About little Edelgard two point o.” 

As he sits down on the chair next to my hospital bed and stares at me with a level expression, I give him a suspicious look. “She’s not Edelgard.”

“How would you know? You never knew her.” Linhardt waves the subject away impatiently. “Her personality doesn’t matter anyways. Maybe she’s nothing like Edelgard; maybe she is. I don’t give a shit. What matters is that she has the Crest of Flames and judging by the rumors I heard about her eviscerating Nemesis with a Death spell, I’d say the Agarthan experiments worked even better than they did with Lysithea or Edelgard.”

“Hubert told Ferdinand that you can help her,” I say.

“Yes, I believe I can. I managed to remove Lysithea’s crest, but it wasn’t easy. I’d like a chance to duplicate the experiment.”

“Juniper’s not a lab rat,” I say with a glare. “She’s a child!”

“A child that isn’t going to live past the age of thirty if that crest keeps eating away at her lifespan.”

The frankness of his words stun me and my heart aches at the thought. “You’re certain that it worked for Lysithea? It wasn’t just a fluke?” I ask.

Something cold and dangerous casts a shadow over Linhardt’s expression as he replies, “If you’re implying that you think I’d risk my wife in an experiment I wasn’t certain would work, you can go to hell.”

I respect his anger enough to say, “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”

He nods stiffly. “The process works; it’s just difficult. If you want me to remove the girl’s crest, she will need to stay here for several months. And she’ll need some protection. I don’t want the church poking their noses around my hospital. The kid is bound to draw attention and that’s the last thing I need. I’m on thin enough ice as it is here. I won’t let all my work come to nothing because the church decided to shut me down. Byleth might not have Rhea’s hatred of scientific advancement, but she also can’t control every action of the church. Some backwards old Rhea-sympathizer could come along and burn this place to the ground if they got wind of what I’m doing here.”

“Understood.”

“One more thing,” he says. “Sylvain’s awake.”

“What? Why didn’t you say that sooner?”

“Because I don’t want you bursting in there and disturbing him. Your battle medic might have kept him alive, but two days of being knocked out with a fever hasn’t done him much good. I don’t want anyone disturbing him. He’s barely lucid. I’m telling you so you can go collect your kid. She’s been hovering outside your door and his this whole time getting underfoot.”

“How are the others?” I ask, as I climb carefully out of bed, my body still feeling weak and shaky. At least I’m able to move around, though. Despite losing a fucking arm, I’m still less wounded than everyone else.

“They’ll live,” Linhardt says simply and stands up, walking towards the door.

“What about Petra?” I ask, following him stubbornly. “She got the worst of it, didn’t she?”

“She’s tough,” he answers. “She’ll pull through. Lysithea has been by her side since you got here.”

“Thank you,” I reply. Linhardt rubs me the wrong way but that doesn’t change the fact that we all showed up with no warning on his doorstep an inch from our lives and he and Lysithea have been up around the clock diligently taking care of us.

When we come to the door of Sylvain’s hospital room, we find Juniper sitting on the floor outside it with her knees tucked up to her chest and a furious expression on her face.

“Let me in,” she says, regarding Linhardt with a look that could kill.

“Can’t. Sorry. Run along now, kiddo,” he says. “Go with Felix to the kitchen and eat some breakfast.” He glances at me and says, “I’ll let you know when you can see him.”

For a split-second, I’m worried Juniper will hex Linhardt or something then she gets up and walks over to me sullenly.

“Come on. We’ll see Sylvain later,” I tell her.

She follows me down the hall towards the kitchen as Linhardt steps into Sylvain’s room and closes the door behind him.

“Are you hungry?” I ask her.

“No.”

“You’re going to eat anyways,” I say and she doesn’t argue.

In the kitchen, we find the cook busy dishing up meals for the other patients, so I just take some bread and cheese from the cupboard and head outside to the walled garden. It’s still raining like cats and dogs but there is a small pavilion with a table underneath it and I welcome a chance to get away from the smell of vulneries and disinfectant and the sound of low, worried whispers in the hallways.

“Have you seen Ferdie and Hubert?” I ask Juniper.

She shakes her head. “They won’t let me talk to him. He’s locked up in a room with soldiers outside.”

“Hm. I’ll see what I can do about that. Now eat,” I say, shoving the tray closer to her.

She sits down on the bench and swings her legs back and forth restlessly, taking the tiniest nibble possible of a slice of cheese. What is she, a bird?

“Eat,” I repeat.

She shoots me a look but takes an actual bite this time.

“Can they put your arm back on?” she asks and I pause with a piece of bread an inch from my mouth. Setting it back down, I look away from her a moment. Of course she isn’t going to beat around the bush about something like this. 

“No,” I answer finally.

“How will you fight?”

“I’ll use my other hand.”

“You can do that?”

“I can do anything I put my mind to,” I reply. “And so can you. Now don’t pester me about it, okay? I’m tired.”

She is silent for a few minutes, picking away slowly at her meal. Then she says, “I went to see the pretty queen and the lady with the white hair gave me cake.”

“The queen’s name is Petra.”

“Her knight is nice.”

“Ashe? Yeah, he is.”

“He was sitting outside her door. He read a book to me.”

“You know, for someone as prickly as me, you sure have a way of making friends,” I tell her.

“You have lots of friends.”

“Goddess knows why…” I mutter.

Juniper seems to pick up at last on my grim mood and she leaves me alone. Finishing up the last of her food, she announces that she is going to go find worms and runs off into the garden. I consider calling her back out of the rain, but decide against it. Let her be a kid for once. Rodrigue let me practically run feral in the woods during my childhood and it was the only good parenting decision he ever made.

I watch her absentmindedly as she splashes around in the puddles and digs through the mud in search of bugs, smiling a bit at the sight of the white hospital dress someone gave her getting absolutely destroyed. Because that’s what kids do, and it’s good to see her looking like a child for once, not a ghost or a small, serious adult.

Someone opens the door from the kitchen and calls out to me, “You should bring her in before she catches cold.”

“Fuck off,” I reply and they close the door with an offended huff.

I catch myself rubbing at the bandaged stump of my right arm and stop. Despair aches dull and cold in my chest and I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. I have to keep my head clear. I can’t let myself spiral over this. 

“Ew! Felix, look at it,” Juniper says, running over and holding out a huge slimy worm.

“Gross,” I say appreciatively.

She places it gently back in the mud and dashes off again.

Linhardt’s words run through my mind. “ _ She’ll need protection.” _ But who? Sylvain can’t be away from Gautier for months, not with things up at the Sreng border still being so tenuous. It’s bad enough we’ve been gone this long.

Ferdinand oversees one of the largest and most economically important territories in Fódlan; he needs to go home. Also, after his idiotic stunt bringing Juniper back to the battlefield, I think everyone can agree he is not qualified to be a babysitter. 

Hubert I would trust to protect Juniper, but he will likely have to disappear again if he wants to keep his freedom. Even if by some miracle he were offered a pardon, his presence here would draw the attention and wrath of the church and risk the hospital even more.

The obvious answer is that it should be me. Or at least, that would have been the answer three days ago. With a good steward to watch over Fraldarius territory, I have more freedom than any of the others. Derdriu isn’t terribly far from Gautier – a couple days by wyvern. I could travel back and forth to see Sylvain and guard Juniper.

But now… would I even be able to protect her?

Despite the stabs of pain in my side from moving around too much, I get up and walk out into the rain. 

“You find any good sticks around here?” I ask Juniper.

She runs over with a gnarled but sturdy branch that fell from the pine tree during the windstorm. With her help, I snap off some of the extraneous twigs and needles until it is roughly the size and shape of a sword. Then I take it in my left hand and give it an experimental swing.

“Teach me!” she says.

“Go find a smaller stick,” I tell her. While she searches around, I go through the motions of a sword exercise, simplifying the footwork so as not to strain my worn out body. It feels awkward and stiff and goes against the years of carefully trained muscle memory. But if I concentrate, I can muddle my way through.

On the last movement of it, I falter and twist the handle of the ‘sword’ in the wrong angle. If it had a cross-guard and this were a real fight, I would have just been killed.

Anger flares up in my mind and I clench my teeth to hold back a curse. Although I don’t give a shit about censoring my language around Juniper, I will not show pointless anger in front of her. It will only upset her.

“Got one!” she says and attacks me with it.

I swat her stick aside and dodge to the side. “Good initiative. Let’s work on your stance first.”

Giving her instructions on a few of the basics helps take my mind off my own emotions, but several times throughout the lesson, I feel those brief, white-hot stabs of anger when I fumble. After a quarter of an hour, I am out of breath and my whole body aches from head to toe. I’m overdoing it. I did get my side ripped open by a demonic beast after all. I can’t treat that too lightly.

“Sorry, Juniper. I need to go rest for a bit. Let’s go back inside.”

“I’m hungry,” she says.

“Oh now you’re hungry… Wait, don’t bring that inside!” I shout as she yanks open the door to the kitchen and tries to drag her muddy stick in. 

She drops it and scampers inside. Picking up the empty tray of food with a sigh, I follow her and find one of the nurses fussing over her. She takes Juniper to go get cleaned up and I retreat back to my room, changing into dry clothes. A little while later Juniper knocks on my door and I let her in. She is holding Percy and carrying a plate with a slice of cake.

“You sure are spoiled,” I say.

“You want some?” she says.

“No. It’s all yours.”

She sits down on the chair next to my bed and eats her cake, asking, “Can we see Sylvain?”

“Linhardt said he would let us know when we can see him. Sylvain needs to rest first,” I answer wearily. Propping up the pillows against the headboard, I sit down on the bed. “I need to rest for a bit too. Will you keep watch? Wake me if anyone comes in, okay? And don’t wander off. If you go anywhere, make sure someone you know is with you. You can trust Ashe – the knight who read you the book – and you can trust the doctor Linhardt and the white-haired lady Lysithea. But no one else. Do you understand?”

“I know.”

“I’ll see if you can visit Hubert when I wake up.”

“Mhm.”

I close my eyes and to my relief, sleep comes to spare me from my thoughts. But after a couple hours, Juniper wakes me up, exclaiming, “We can see Sylvain!”

I hurry eagerly to his room and find the door open. Linhardt gives us a stern look as we walk in and says, “Fifteen minutes.”

“Fee,” Sylvain gasps. 

I freeze, paralyzed by the look of love, concern and pain etched across his face.

“Sylvain!” Juniper says and runs over to hop up onto the bed next to him. “You’re alive.”

He swiftly masks his expression and gives her a smile. “Of course I am. How’s it going, kid?”

“Felix taught me to swordfight.”

“Good. You need to practice for the wedding tournament! I’m going to bet all my money on you winning,” he says.

I walk over slowly and tap Juniper’s shoulder. “I need to speak with him alone. Will you go wait outside? You can talk to him later.”

She looks worriedly at Sylvain but after he gives her another reassuring smile and nod, she gets up and leaves.

Sylvain's composure melts away as soon as the door closes behind her. “Oh goddess… Fee, what happened to you?” His gaze turns to my arm. “Did you- Were they not able to-”

“Yes,” I answer, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He holds out his hand and I take it gently in mine, rubbing my thumb over his fingers. I open my mouth to reply but no words come out.

“I’m going to be okay. Linhardt said in a couple weeks I’ll be able to travel back home,” Sylvain says. He knows I can’t talk right now. He knows not to ask me anymore questions.

“That’s good,” I say hoarsely. “I was so scared you weren’t going to make it.”

“Perks of having a goddess-infused friend, eh?” he replies with a weak smile. “Byleth’s spells stitched my insides back up correctly and held me together long enough to get here. That wasn’t an easy thing to do.”

“I’m so glad you’re-” My sentence cuts out as my throat chokes with emotion. Looking away from Sylvain’s eyes, I blink furiously and try to restrain the pathetic urge to cry that is suddenly welling up inside me. When was the last time I cried? This is absurd.

“Fee,” he murmurs and lets go of my hand. He reaches up and cups my cheek, brushing his thumb under my eyes to wipe away the tears I can’t hold back.

“Damn it! I was keeping it together fine until you- until I saw your stupid face and now I just…”

“I love you,” he whispers. “Don’t hide things from me.”

I gather my tumultuous thoughts enough to explain, “I’d trade my arm for your life again in a heartbeat, Sylvain. I’m not… It’s not that I’m angry about what happened. We all fought hard and did the best we could. I’m just angry-” I pause and take a deep breath. “I will adapt. I didn’t lose anything that matters.”

“It’s your sword arm, Fee… You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t,” I insist fiercely. “Not compared to your life.”

He doesn’t reply for a long moment. Then he tugs at my head and says, “Come here and kiss me. I can’t sit up.”

I sniff and scrub the tears off my cheeks with my sleeve, then lean down and press my lips against his carefully. He’s still in delicate condition. I can’t-

Sylvain slips his hand behind my head and kisses me like there’s no tomorrow. When I pull away, worried he will strain himself, I see that his eyes are glistening too.

“I love you,” he says again.

I sniff and give an awkward laugh that comes out a bit like a snort. Holding up my left hand, I say, “At least I didn’t lose the fucking handcuff.”

Sylvain smiles then laughs too. “Just take it off so I can buy you a ring!”

“I can’t get it off one-handed,” I say, wiping more tears off my face. “You bastard. I’m stuck with this cursed thing.”

“Here, I’ll get it,” he says, reaching out for my wrist. But I yank it away.

“Nice try. Only I get to choose whether to take this off or not. And as long as you don’t give me reason to divorce you, it will stay on. You’re stuck with me and a lifetime of clumsy left-handed hand jobs.”

“Oh joy.”

I know it’s crazy to joke at a time like this, but somehow it helps more than any amount of crying or talking would. I feel a little warmth return to the aching cold in my chest and I meet Sylvain’s eyes with a small, fond smile.

“Get some rest. I need to go before Linhardt comes back.”

“Let me say goodbye to Juniper.”

I give him one more kiss, slower this time and gentler. Then I get up and open the door. “You can say hello now,” I tell Juniper.

She bounds in and jumps onto the foot of the bed, causing Sylvain to wince.

“Are you sure you don’t want to learn how to fight with a different weapon?” Sylvain asks her. “Swords are nice and all, but if you learn to use a lance you can fight on horseback like me.”

“I want to learn swords.”

“Well you’re lucky then. You have the best teacher in Fódlan,” he says. He chats with her for a moment then I herd Juniper out to let Sylvain rest.

We go in search of Ferdinand and Hubert and find them in a room on the far side of the hospital with an armed guard stationed outside.

“Let me in,” I tell the soldiers. 

“We’re under orders from Archbishop Byleth to not let anyone in or out except healers,” one of them replies.

“I’m Duke Fraldarius. You’ll let me pass,” I say.

They look at each other questioningly and then turn back to me and nod. I step past them and knock on the door until I am met with a “Come in!” called out by Ferdinand.

As I walk inside, I find Hubert sitting by the window reading a book and Ferdinand sitting on one of the hospital beds, diligently writing letters. He sets them aside as we enter and sighs. “Paperwork follows me even here.”

“Fuck paperwork,” I say and he nods in agreement.

Juniper goes over to Hubert and asks about the book he is reading and as they talk, I glance at Ferdie and say, “I’m handing you babysitting duties for a while. I need some time to myself. Keep an eye on her and don’t take her to any warzones while I’m gone.”

He starts to argue with me but I leave and shut the door behind me before he can get a word out.

As I collapse back into the bed in my own room, I curl up deep into the blankets and close my eyes. In the safety of privacy, I allow myself to rest for a while in the wretched feeling of loss that I can't ignore any longer. 

Slowly, the thoughts and emotions spinning around in my head settle. The pain doesn’t go away, nor the grief. But after a while I have controlled the instinctive hopelessness enough to be able to turn my mind to one important question with some level of clarity and calm.

Where do I go from here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick essay on Felix characterization and why he inspires me:
> 
> Ever since I wrote “Felix loses his sword arm in battle with Nemesis” on my outline, I’ve struggled to figure out how he would respond to this. So I turned to the canon to look at his response to his two biggest losses in Azure Moon: Glenn & Rodrigue.  
> With Glenn, he strives to honor him by becoming strong but also making sure no one else dies for such a pointless reason.  
> Immediately after Rodrigue’s death, you find Felix in his room, not hammering out his grief in the training grounds. He’s not as angry or withdrawn as I expected. He’s still already looking to the future, talking about how they move forward. Because this is how he handles loss: he adapts and perseveres. It’s not that he shuts out the emotions; it’s that he processes them, a hell of a lot more maturely than most of the other characters actually.  
> A bit like Dimitri, I tend to get lost in the pain and regrets of the past. Felix inspires me to look to the future instead. I think the loss of his arm will cause him pain and frustration on a daily basis, likely for the rest of his life. But I also don't think it will ever stop him from living that life.  
> So that’s how I finally landed on Felix’s response being one of calm and bravery. I still wonder if it’s a good characterization of him, though, and I’d love to hear your thoughts on how you think he’d react to something like this.  
> There is of course the fact that in VW when Dimitri dies, he is regretful and pained. But I also think that VW & CF Felix is a very different person from AM Felix. All his formative years were shaped by different circumstances in those routes. Anyways, let me know your thoughts if you agree or disagree!  
> As always, thanks for reading this far!


	26. Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some emotional resolution with a side of fucking...  
> It's the Ferdibert chapter

## 26 – Inevitable

###  **Ferdinand**

After Juniper leaves, we fall back into the strained silence that has simmered between us ever since we arrived at the hospital in Derdriu. It was easy to ignore Hubert at first because I was barely conscious and once I woke up and was told by Linhardt that I would be here for a few days at least, I had the excuse of writing business letters to my steward to occupy me.

Then came the lucky distraction of Juniper popping in to spend a few hours reading and talking with Hubert.

But now we are alone again and I realize that I cannot be a coward any longer. I have been afraid that trying to speak of anything serious with him will only cause him to vanish as it did last time. I have to take the risk, though. I cannot let things go unspoken any longer.

“Hubert,” I say. He is sitting on the edge of his bed and I get up and walk over to sit next to him.

“Ferdinand,” he says, without glancing up from his book.

“We must talk.”

“Must we?”

“We must.”

Reluctantly, he sets the book aside and looks at me. His expression is careful and neutral, but I see no traces of hostility in it.

“What is your plan? Are you going to submit to Byleth and Dimitri’s interrogation and judgment? Or are you going to flee?” I ask.

“Both,” he says. “I will give Byleth what information I have concerning the Agarthans in return for her assurance that the remnants of them will be hunted down exhaustively. But I will not submit myself to remain in custody.” 

“Are you not going to hunt them down yourself?”

His frown tightens with suppressed frustration. “I fear I lack the ability to anymore. When I used that weapon on Shambhala, it was not with the expectation that I would survive. I suppose I cannot be surprised that a part of me didn’t. My magic will never be what it was. I will be able to cast some spells, even several powerful ones at a time, but not enough for a drawn out battle. Taking on groups of enemies alone would be fruitless. My only option now is to give my mission to those who are capable of executing it. That was my intention from the beginning anyways when I expected to die outside Shambhala. I must accept returning to it now.”

“Then what will you do?” I ask.

He opens his mouth to reply then closes it without speaking, looking away out the window. 

I let him sit in silence for a moment then I gather my courage and say, “Come with me to Aegir. Say you want to and I will find a way to make it possible.”

I expect him to argue or react with surprise or stubbornness, but instead he sighs and rests his forehead in his hand. “I knew you were going to say this. I’ve known from the beginning that you…”

He trails off and I ask, “Are you going to give me a real answer or not? I am going out of my mind, Hubert! You said on the battlefield that you should have known you would return to me. That, among other things, has given me some hope that you might not be as set on disappearing from my life as you want to make me believe you are. I need you to tell me once and for all if this hope is unfounded or not.”

Lifting his head from his hand and looking out the window, Hubert says, “You are right. I owe you an answer. So I will explain it to you like this so you understand why I have been conflicted and inconsistent.” He pauses for a second to gather his thoughts then continues. “I had this image that I’d focus on when I was in captivity. I’d escape and come home to you. It always felt like homecoming for some reason, although in this daydream I know not where we actually were. And you’d take me back with open arms.”

I struggle to find the words to reply, stunned by his openness. As much as I had demanded an answer from him, I did not truly expect him to give me one.

“I knew you would,” he continues. “You’re too foolish and unheeding of your own well-being. I knew you’d be too quick to forgive me and that you’d still love me. It is in your nature to do so. And I also knew I could easily manipulate your guilt, even make you think you were in the wrong for your choice and make you beg for forgiveness. Then I could be the hero who set aside our bloody past to give you a second chance.”

“But you have done the exact opposite! You have willfully refused to accept my forgiveness.”

“I changed my mind.”

I wait for him to elaborate but he just stares out the window, lost in thought.

“Why?” I prompt.

“Because, as I think you know now, I realized that I still loved you,” he says. “And I cannot manipulate for selfish aims someone whose best interests I desire to serve.”

“I still do not understand. You say that you wanted me this whole time and yet your feelings for me came as a shock to you?”

“When I imagined you during those dark days, what I dreamt of was comfort and respite. That desire took on your aspect because you are the only face I have to associate with that feeling. I did not love you then. I cut any feelings I had for you out of my heart during the war because I could not afford to be weakened by the pain and doubt they filled me with.”

His words, spoken so calmly and dispassionately, make me feel cold.

“I see. I wonder how you succeeded in such a thing. I was never able to,” I reply.

“I did so because I had to. I have done many cruel things in the name of necessity. But…” He struggles for the right words and I wait for him to find them. “Now I would rather turn that cruelty on myself than you. You have always deserved better than me. I am… capable of loving you. But if I were to give in to my selfish desires and ask you to be with me, it would be doing you a disservice. There will be times when I am not myself, times when I will be too lost to tell what is real. There will be times when I am hard to love, but your relentless optimism will cause you to stay with me throughout them, accepting my volatility no matter how it hurts you because you want to hope I will change. And whether I mean to or not, I will take advantage of you. That is a cruel fate to wish upon someone I love.”

“But you do want me now, even if it is against your better judgment?” I ask.

He glances over and meets my eyes finally, looking concerned at my response. “That is beside the point. Did you not listen to a thing I just said?”

“I heard you say that you loved me,” I reply and reach out to brush my fingertips across his cheek. The touch is so light it barely grazes his skin but it has an acute effect on him and he winces as if in pain. I know he will withdraw from me and I cannot bear to let him, so I cup his cheek in my palm and lean in to rest my forehead against his.

“Ferdinand, please…” he breathes. “Listen to me.”

“I am listening,” I say. “But I will make my own decisions, as I have always done. It is not your right to make them for me.”

I run my thumb across his lips and they part as his breath catches in anticipation. Then he whispers, “Do not make this harder than it already is.”

He tries to pull back but I slip my hand behind his head and close the rest of the distance between us before he can move away. 

For a second, his lips are unresponsive against mine, but before my heart can fall and my courage wane, he gives in. Taking my face in his hands, he kisses me back deeply, yearningly, with all the overwhelming intensity of his passionate soul. I try to have some self-control but I am also too overcome to be sensible and modest. 

Moving so I am in his lap straddling him, I kiss him with everything I have, reveling in the feeling of him wrapping his arms around me and holding me as close as possible. 

“Do you,” I gasp between kisses, “still want me to stop? Just– say the word and– I will.”

His only response is a groan as he runs his hands across my back and tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss. His fingers tangle in my hair and he pulls my head back so he can kiss my neck. As his lips and tongue move across my skin hungrily, an embarrassingly indecent moan escapes my mouth.

Hubert freezes and I murmur, “Please, do not stop. I want you so badly I hardly know how to say it.”

But he swears under his breath and says, “What am I doing?”

Pulling back, I look him in the eyes and answer earnestly, “Loving me in exactly the way I want you to. I do not desire your self-sacrifice, Hubert. I do not want silent devotion from a distance, nor to suffer in separation simply because we both fear the challenge of a relationship rebuilt from such a grave and painful past. I am not afraid of your complexity, nor of your volatility.”

“I am not the man you once knew,” he says. “We fell in love years ago. You have no idea what I have done since then, what has been done to me. I can never be that person again.”

“And neither can I. If you will take this version of me that exists now, I will take yours.”

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and smiles. It is such a faint expression, subtle enough that another person might miss it. But it fills me with hope and a joy so intense it makes my heart ache.

“Let me do what I do best and make you smile,” I tell him. “Let me give you some of my hope.”

“And what could I possibly have to give you in return?”

“What you have always given me: honesty and understanding. Give me your forthrightness, argue with me, challenge my opinions when I am wrong and support my ideas when I am on the right path. That is what I need if I am to strive to be a better man.”

“You have a way of bringing out the best in me,” he says softly. “But I fear I bring out the worst in you.”

“The only unfortunate side of me you bring out is my temper!” I answer, losing my patience a bit. I get off of him and walk over to the window, clasping my hands behind my back to try to appear calm, even though I can feel my frustration rising. “You must cease this self-tormenting doubt, Hubert! We have had enough of it, you and I! You must stop, for my sake if not for yours. Disregarding my opinions as to your worth shows a lack of respect for my judgment that is frankly insulting and I will not tolerate-”

I feel a hand close around my wrist and realize that he has come to stand right behind me. Turning me around, he steps closer and presses my back up against the wall. 

He looks into my eyes for a long moment searchingly then says, “I do not know what the right thing to do is. So just tell me what it is you want from me and I will do it.”

“What I-” My breath hitches as his hands slip under my shirt and run across my bare skin. “Right now all I want is to be with you,” I answer. “We can figure out the rest later. I have waited so long to have you in my arms again. Let me savor this moment. Please.”

“Then I am all yours.”

His lips find mine again and I kiss him desperately as he undoes the buttons on my shirt and pulls it down my shoulders and off my arms. As it falls to the ground, I reach up to unbutton his, but he takes one of my hands in both of his and raises it to his lips. 

“Leave it on,” he says.

“I love your body,” I insist. “I do not care if now there are more scars on it. I have never found you any less attractive for scars and marks.”

To prove my point, I take off one of his gloves, exposing the magic burns covering his hand. Placing his palm on my cheek, I nestle into it and look at him pleadingly.

“It is not about your acceptance or rejection. It is about my own. I hate what has been done to my body and I would rather not let hateful feelings overshadow what I feel right now for you. So give me this small comfort so that I may give you my love without distraction,” he replies.

“Very well,” I say. “But leave the gloves off. I want to feel your bare hands on me.”

He starts to argue but stops when I put two of his fingers in my mouth and slowly slide my tongue across them, staring at him intently all the while.

“Fuck,” he whispers and pulls his fingers free, stepping closer so his body is pressed up against mine. He reaches out one hand and casts a silence ward across the door to give us some privacy – an old trick of his. Then, slipping his hands into my hair, he leans in and kisses me deeply. The way his tongue moves in my mouth makes my skin flush and heat swell in my body because it reminds me exactly how good he is with it and all the incredible things he can do to me with it.

I am hardly aware of what happens in the next few minutes, caught up in the heady rush of a long-yearned-for daydream becoming reality. My hands seek to relearn every inch of his body, searching, groping, longing, rejoicing in the way I get his breath racing and his heart pounding. His mouth wanders down from mine to cross my jaw, my neck, collarbones, chest. His tongue flicks across one of my nipples at the same time as his hand slips between my legs and I gasp, my head falling back to bang into the wall as I see stars.

I fumble with the buckle on my belt until finally it is undone and I can tug off my trousers. Once I am free from the rest of my clothes, he pulls me over to the bed and places his palm on my chest, urging me to lie down on my back.

As he climbs on top of me and continues to tease my nipples with his lips and tongue, I brush his hair out of his face and say, “Promise me you will let me have you too tonight.”

“I promise,” he whispers, glancing up at me briefly. “But first let me do this. It is all I desire right now.”

I laugh breathlessly. “I could not stop you even if I wished to. I want you too badly.”

He smiles slightly then lowers his head again to continue what he was doing. The stimulation nears the point of being too much to bear and I shudder. Noticing the signal, he moves on to kiss his way down my body. I wait in aching anticipation, eyes closed, breath held, until his mouth finally reaches my dick and his tongue traces a line up the shaft, making me clamp my hand over my mouth to silence a whine of impatience. 

As he continues to slowly explore it, I open my eyes to look down at him and see him watching me carefully, studying my reactions to read what my body wants. His eyes soften fondly as I meet his gaze and I am struck all over again with how beautiful they are, the light willow green irises, the pupils dilated with arousal. 

Then he closes them and dips his head down to take me deeply in his throat and any capacity for coherent thought I have slips away. I vaguely hear gasps and moans and know they must be my own but my mind is too overcome with pleasure to care or try to stay quiet.

I hardly know how we got here from our argument of a few minutes ago, but I suppose all of these years of separation have made us both hungry for each other in a way that no amount of patience or propriety can subdue.

As the heat and throbbing pressure builds in my body, some tiny sliver of self-awareness returns and I raise my hand to my mouth, biting down on my fist to silence a loud cry as the euphoric release of the orgasm seizes me. He keeps going until it has run its course and as the last shivers race through my body, I prop myself up on my elbows and look down at him.

He licks away the come then pulls back, still holding my dick an inch from his lips, a thin trail of saliva connecting his mouth to the tip. It is a messy, breathless, vulnerable moment but in it he looks happier than I have seen him yet.

When he glances up at me questioningly, I smile at him, hoping that reassures him of my satisfaction since at the moment I do not know how to put it into words. 

He plants a wet kiss on the inside of my thigh then sits up and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Putting my hand on his shoulder, I draw him up to lie beside me and take him into my arms. With a hum of happiness, I nuzzle his neck and lift his leg to rest over my hip so I can press as close to him as possible. 

“It has been a while since I have done that, to say the least. I will need some practice before I am the lover I used to be,” he says with a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. “I hope you will give me many opportunities to practice.”

“As many as you want. My body is yours,” I reply.

“I…”

When he trails off, I ask, “What?”

“I love you,” he says. “And it is not just your body that I want to please. You know that I cannot promise with any certainty that I can make you happy. In fact, it is far more likely I will only cause you frustration and heartache. But what I can promise is that I will try, should a way exist for us to stay together for any length of time.”

“Promise me something else.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Promise me that you will seek your own happiness. I am not sure if you even know how, so I imagine it will be a long and complicated puzzle to solve. But promise me that you will put all of the power of your resolve and the strength of your will into it. I think that if you can figure that out, making me happy will become an easy endeavor compared to it.”

Hubert sighs. “That’s quite a mission you’ve tasked me with.”

“I never said that loving me would be easy either. I will make you work hard.”

He considers it for a long moment then he leans down and presses his lips against my forehead. “That is a promise I can make,” he says. “I will work hard. And I will trust that you will hold me to the right path.”

Satisfied with his promise, I fall silent, running my hands across his body and enjoying the quiet comfort of his presence. He does the same and as he relaxes in my arms, we rediscover the way our bodies fit together. There are a hundred unanswered questions left, but right now all I want is to rest. 

After a while my mind wanders to a memory I have not allowed myself to think of for quite some time. With so many years of separation between us, being with Hubert again holds a similar newness to it that it makes me think of our first time together. I had to make myself forget that memory in order to move on enough to enjoy sexual encounters with anyone else. But now that thoughts of him bear less pain, I find it pleasant, in a bittersweet way, to remember.

Our first time was not his first time. But, to no one’s surprise, it was mine. Physical relationships were not something I ever had the ability to seek out in my youth. My life at Garreg Mach had been my first opportunity to have the necessary privacy and freedom to pursue such a thing. And pursue it I certainly had once our relationship had turned romantic in nature. 

Hubert had told me not to rush into anything, but my repeated assertions that I wanted him had won out in the end. I was sheltered; I did not know what to expect. He took it agonizingly slow, despite how many times my impetuousness got the best of me and I told him to _“just get on with it!”_

I smile as I realize how trying it must have been for him to tell headstrong young Ferdinand to slow down so many times without losing his patience. I remember giving in finally and stopping my attempts to rip off both my clothes and his all at once. I remember letting him go at the pace he wanted – items of clothing removed one at a time, gradually deepening kisses, gentle hands and lingering lips exploring my body, permission being asked at each step. 

_“Is this alright?”_ He must have asked me that a hundred times that night. It was infuriating at the time. 

Looking back now, I marvel at his patience, at the love that caused him to care about making that first night between us safe and comfortable more than wild and exciting. In my naivete, I had imagined sex would be a feverish affair, slightly sordid and as sensational as the scenes in the couple of books I found in the library that had escaped through some lucky oversight the cull of Seteth’s banning. Instead it was a slow, beautiful thing full of murmured assurances of trust and quiet laughs after a fumble or mistake on my part.

I can hardly recall the climax itself, for there were too many better ones in the following days for me to remember the first one with much clarity. But I remember the smile on Hubert's face afterwards as he lay down across from me, panting for breath, his face half-hidden in the pillow, his hair a mess from my fingers nervously gripping it. And I remember thinking, in my love-struck innocence, that we were destined for each other and I would never love anyone else.

It would have been better and wiser of me to learn to love someone else. Any efforts I made started off sincere but always ended in the same way; I would break things off with the person before too much intimacy could grow. It was not that I couldn’t move on from that first love. No, my reasons were more cowardly: I could not face the pain of dashed dreams again.

At any rate, that naive thought young Ferdinand had was not entirely untrue. Even if it was because of my own fear and failings, I never did learn to love anyone else the way I loved him. And it is a far greater mercy than my flawed soul deserves that I have found my way back to him after all these years to recover that love.

As much as I chastise Hubert for his self-doubts and loathing, I cannot honestly claim I am much better. I too do not think I deserve happiness like this. The difference between us is that I am unable to turn it away on principle the way he is. I want him too dearly and whether I deserve it or not, I will fight for a life with him with all my heart.

“What are you thinking about?” he murmurs, combing his fingers through my hair and pressing a kiss to my temple.

Even though my mind has been preoccupied with the past, I decide to answer differently, for we have spent too much time discussing the past and the future and not enough time in the present with each other. “I was considering how I wish to make love to you when you give me permission to,” I say. “There is much I want to do and prioritizing it is proving to be a difficult business.”

“Perhaps you should consult with me on the matter and I can help you decide,” he says dryly.

I laugh. “Very well. Tell me your thoughts on the subject, Mister von Vestra. I would appreciate your counsel.”

“I would advise you to not overcomplicate the matter. Start with this.” He kisses me deeply. His voice is serious as he then adds, “From there, go slowly.”

“Of course. Thankfully, patience and level-headed temperance are qualities I am known for,” I reply. “I am sure I will accomplish this admirably.”

Hubert’s grave expression eases and he laughs, making my heart leap with joy. “You are ridiculous.”

“That is another quality I am known for.”

He looks into my eyes for a moment with an unguarded smile, then kisses me. Taking my hands in his, he guides them to the buttons on the waistband of his trousers and helps me undo them. Kissing him passionately to distract him from his worries, I slide the pants down and he kicks them off the rest of the way. I run my hands across his legs and thighs and ass appreciatively for a bit then I move them upwards. As I start to slip them under his shirt, I feel patterns of thick scars under my fingertips and Hubert stiffens.

I withdraw my hands and pause. “Not yet?”

“Not yet,” he agrees.

“I will focus my attention elsewhere then,” I reply, pushing him to lie on his back. 

“Where?” he asks.

“Here,” I answer and move down to kiss his hips. Lifting his legs to rest on my shoulders, I leisurely explore his thighs with my lips and tongue while reaching up to take his half-hard dick in my hand and rub my thumb across its head. When he responds with a moan and I feel him growing harder, I move over to run my tongue across it.

I notice that his fingers clench around handfuls of the sheets and his body stiffens and at first I think it is with pleasure, then I realize it is anxiety. Pulling back, I kiss his thighs again then say, “You do not like letting your guard down enough to enjoy yourself, do you?”

He sits up, looking away to avoid my gaze. “Have I ever?” He sighs and adds, “I’m sorry. I am having trouble focusing. As much as I want you, it is hard to… be in the moment and relax my body. It is difficult to convince it I am not in danger at the moment and do not need to be alert.”

“You had no trouble making love to me earlier.”

“It is easier when I am focused on you.”

“Then focus on me and do whatever you like,” I say. Getting out of bed, I search the shelves of the room until I come across a bottle of lotion. Putting a bit on my fingers, I test its feel and nod. “This will do.”

I return to the bed and hand it to him. He takes it and sets it aside, then puts his hands on my waist and tugs me over to lie on my back beside him. “I will relearn how to be a person,” he says, “with time. I’m sorry I am too lost in my own head right now to let you do what you want. It is no fault of yours.”

“In the meantime I suppose I will have to put up with you endlessly pleasuring me instead. What a trial that will be. How ever will I bear it?”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he replies solemnly, “I will endeavor to make it bearable somehow.”

“Please do.”

He turns me over to lie on my stomach and tucks my hair to the side so he can kiss the back of my neck. His hand slides across my body and I shiver in anticipation. As he presses kisses down my spine, I bury my face in my arms and wait for his touch, my selfish body growing eager at the very thought. But to my surprise he spreads my legs and I feel the warm touch of his tongue on my rim instead of his fingers. 

“Oh,” I gasp. “Oh my.”

“You said I could do what I liked,” he says, adjusting me so he has a better angle. “Is this alright?”

“Yes, that is-” I gasp again as his tongue brushes my skin and the powerful sensation evoked by such a simple action staggers me. “It is- _aah!_ \- quite…” I give up on trying to speak coherently and moan into the pillow as he moves his tongue more intently. I have not been with someone who did this to me in quite a while and I forgot how unique a feeling it is.

The sensation grows until my body is burning with arousal and my mind is completely overcome by whatever magic his mouth is working. Then he pulls away and I feel him slip a finger into me instead. My hips buck back against him without meaning to and he puts his hand on my back to signal me to slow down. I contain my eagerness and let him continue until he can fit two fingers. After what seems like an eternity and what meager patience I have is all but exhausted, he slips in a third and I gasp.

“For the love of all that is holy, please, just-”

He laughs. “So impatient.”

“Can you blame me?” I ask.

“No, not at all.”

He turns me onto my back and I notice that his dick is hard and slick and all the distraction and anxiety that was in his expression earlier is gone, replaced by a focused, longing intensity. He continues to finger me for a moment but much harder now and the way his eyes are staring so intently into my own takes my breath away.

“Please,” I whisper. 

He gives in and tugs my hips closer, adjusting my legs until he has me at the right angle. As he eases into me, I am struck with the impulse to curse and I cover my mouth with my hand before I say anything uncouth. When he is fully inside me, he pauses for a second, a stunned, overwhelmed look on his face.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. He pulls out slightly then thrusts back in and I cry out, grateful the reckless sound was muffled by my hand. I do not know how effective that silence spell is.

His fingers dig into my thighs as he grips my legs and begins to roll his hips. It takes him a second to find the right angle and rhythm and when he does, I gasp, “Harder!”

He obeys and each snap of his hips, each slap of his skin against mine, each breathless grunt and murmured curse, each burst of sensation builds upon the next until I am aching and desperate to reach its peak.

Relentlessly, wonderfully, he brings me closer and closer until at long last I hit my limit and feel the orgasm shudder through my body. As I tighten around him, he gasps and moves even faster and harder. I come down from it hard, expecting him to finish as well. But instead, I feel his body grow tense as something in the rhythm of his movements seems suddenly less natural, as if what was a moment ago an unconscious action is now conscious.

Reaching up to brush the stray curls out of his eyes, I search his expression and see a hint of that distracted manner about him again. He is trying to stay in the moment but his mind is pulling him away again.

“Look at me,” I say and his eyes return to mine. “Keep going, but do not look away from me.”

He thrusts in deeply and I moan, a little louder than I might normally in an attempt to keep him focused on me. I can see the effect it has on him, the way his eyes light up and he moves more freely again.

As he grows closer, his eyes flutter closed and his mouth opens slightly as he pants for breath.

“Look at me,” I repeat and he obeys. His expression is without filter or thought as he comes, each emotion and sensation passing visibly across it. I love watching it and as he finishes and his body relaxes, I smile softly at him and he smiles back.

After we have cleaned up, we get back into bed and I lie back against the pillows with a contented sigh. Hubert shifts restlessly next to me for a moment then sits up cross-legged.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

Wordlessly, he unbuttons his shirt and shrugs out of it, setting it to the side. Then he props his elbows on his knees and rests his face in his hands. He must not want to see the expression on my face as I survey the damage. I am glad of it, for I cannot hide the visceral pain the sight evokes in me and I know Hubert would detest any sign of pity.

All across his body are symbols etched into his skin, laced with precise surgical cuts. Some are old and healed enough to be but thin white lines, but many are still marred with ropy lines of pink skin. I saw a glimpse of this when we first rescued him, but not the full extent. The damage is worst on his chest and back, although some of the cuts snake up as high as his collarbones and neck and some as low as his abdomen.

“Why did they do this?” I ask, forcing my voice to remain calm and steady so he cannot hear the pity in it.

“Magic experiments, blood tests… I can only claim to understand a piece of their motivations. The rest is beyond me. I know some of it was for the purpose of being able to copy my body and infiltrate Fhirdiad. None of it has lasting damage to my health, I imagine. But it is not a pretty sight. I thought I should get it over with before too much time passes. It would not do to hide it from you indefinitely.”

I pull him into my arms and tuck the covers up around us. “It makes no difference to me. I will still lust wildly after your body the same as always.”

He smiles slightly but does not reply.

“Hubert,” I say. “I am not letting you go again.”

“I know,” he murmurs, reaching out to run his hands through my hair and twist little curls of it around his fingertips. “I have a feeling that even if I left I would end up back at your doorstep, unreasonably and yet inevitably.”

“Good,” I say stubbornly. “I will not stand for any more indecision and doubt. I want you and none of your scars or fears or traumas hold a candle to how happy you make me and how right it feels to be by your side. I belong with you, and you belong with me. That is what matters to me.”

“It will not be easy. I don't even know if it will be possible for me to return with you to Aegir.”

I smile at him and reply, “When have I ever backed down in the face of a challenge or wished things to be easy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys guys guys I commissioned a drawing of Hubert with Juniper and it's incredible. I'm gonna link to it with the last chapter. Can't wait to show you! The artist is amazing.


	27. The Chess Club Convenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand asks Felix for a favor.  
> Felix & Sylvain decide what to do with Juniper.  
> Claude turns to Hubert for answers about Rhea.  
> And the chess club convenes again for the first time in eight years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even after 90k there are soooo many loose threads to wrap up! *screams internally* I really got in over my head with this story, friends.  
> Anyways, here is a chapter of Decisions Being Made.  
> And we are so close to the end! Only 3 chapters remain:  
> \- Ferdinand & Hubert face their past  
> \- Sylvain & Felix face their future  
> \- an epilogue

##  27 – The Chess Club Convenes

###  **Felix**

When I go to check on Sylvain once I wake up from a resentfully mandatory afternoon nap, I find his room empty. But before I can panic, a nurse pops her head into the room and says, “He’s over in the west wing visiting someone.”

Ferdinand and Hubert.

I thank the nurse and walk over to the other side of the hospital. This time the guards do not argue with me when I ask to be let in and when I step inside, I find the room quite crowded.

Ferdinand is sitting on his bed writing letters. Juniper is on the floor putting together a puzzle and crowding around a small table are Hubert, Sylvain and Claude with a chess board between them. Hubert is watching Claude and Sylvain play with a look of amusement. 

When I walk in, Sylvain grins at me then returns his attention back to the board. “Just a minute, Fee. I’m busy destroying the King of Almyra’s reputation as the cleverest man of our generation.”

“Is that really my reputation?” Claude says with a laugh.

“Not anymore,” Sylvain replies and moves one of his pieces. “Checkmate.”

“Should I come back?” I ask with a sigh. The last thing I want is to get dragged into the middle of their stupid battle of wits.

“Just hang on,” Sylvain replies as Claude strokes his scruffy chin thoughtfully and contemplates the board. “This will be over in a- You son of a bitch!”

Claude laughs and makes a small move that doesn’t look like a big deal to me, but then again I’m shit at chess compared to Sylvain, who seems to now view the game as an irreconcilable loss. And judging by Hubert’s smirk, he is of a similar opinion as Sylvain.

Keen on avoiding the egos and squabbles of the chess club, I walk over to a small counter with a tea set and work on brewing a fresh pot. The more menial little tasks I get used to doing with my left hand, the sooner I will begin to adjust. It is at least something to keep me busy so I don’t get roped into conversation.

When it is ready, I pour a cup for Ferdie and one for me and sit down at the foot of his bed, drinking mine in silence and watching the intense match going on between Hubert and Claude.

“I’d love a cup,” Sylvain says, glancing over his shoulder at me.

“Tea is for winners,” I answer. “Get your shit together and stop embarrassing the Fraldarius name.”

He glares at me and I raise my eyebrows, sipping my tea.

“Asshole,” he mutters and goes back to watching Claude and Hubert play.

“Come on, Hubie,” Claude teases. “At this rate, I’ll die of my wounds before you manage to notch a win against me.”

Immune to any form of goading, Hubert continues to consider the board carefully before making his next move.

“How long have they been at this?” I ask Ferdie.

He glances up from his letters and sighs. “Hours.”

“Fucking hell.”

Ferdinand nods and takes a sip of his tea. “Felix, while you are here, might I have a word with you?”

His tone is serious enough that I nod towards the door and say, “In the hall?”

He gets up and leaves the room with me.

“Duke Fraldarius-” one of the guards tries to protest.

“This is the Duke of Aegir. He’s allowed to leave. We’ll be back in a minute anyways,” I reply.

I beckon for Ferdie to follow me and we walk a little ways down the hall where we won’t be overheard.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him.

“I need your help,” he says.

“You want a pardon for Hubert,” I guess. I’ve been waiting for this conversation. I’m surprised he hasn’t come to me and Sylvain yet about it during the four days we’ve been here. I know that Byleth managed to limp over to the west wing and question Hubert for a while, but I don’t know much else.

“Straight to the point,” Ferdie says. “Yes, that is what I want. I am hoping you and Sylvain can help me. I fear that the sway I have earned in political matters will not be of use to me in this particular matter. But I am hoping Byleth and Dimitri will listen to you.”

“Can’t he just warp away into the night and disappear? Why does he even need a pardon?”

“Because I intend to bring him home with me to Aegir and it will be difficult to do so if he is a wanted fugitive.”

I raise my eyebrows but decide not to comment on that turn of events. After all, I’ve had enough of watching the two of them disgustingly pine after each other. It’s a relief that whole mess is over with, I guess.

“Look, Ferdie, I…” I take a moment to choose my words carefully. “Hubert’s earned my trust in some areas. I trust that he cares about Juniper and you and, to some extent, maybe even Sylvain and me because he owes us for helping him. But I can’t look you in the eye and say honestly that I believe he’s not a threat still. He’s gotten revenge against the Agarthans, but if its revenge he’s after, there will still be one name high up on his list and it’s Dimitri’s.”

“If you understood who he is and what he fought for, you would know that perpetuating the violence of the war for such a pointless reason as revenge is not in his nature. If they met on a battlefield, of course he would target Dimitri. But right now Fódlan is at peace. Hubert is above all else pragmatic. He fought for stability in Fódlan and he will not risk it for personal vengeance. He knows there is no one who could take over if Dimitri were to be killed. He knows it would only plunge Fódlan back into war and there would be no achieving peace this time. Whether you believe it or not, he is not the kind of man to do such a thing. With Edelgard dead, there is no one left for him to fight for.”

I contemplate Ferdinand’s words, seeing some logic to them. But is this a matter where I can be anything but cautious?

“I don’t personally wish Hubert ill. If you want, I’ll help arrange transport out of Fódlan. But a pardon?”

“Could you do it, though, if you decided to?” he asks. “Could you and Sylvain convince Dimitri?”

Likely, yes. He is a forgiving man and with his two most trusted advisors advocating for a decision of mercy, it is likely he would give in. But I can’t tell Ferdinand that – not yet, at least.

“What proof do you need?” Ferdinand asks.

I’m beginning to wish Sylvain were here. He would know what to say better than me. Politics, especially among friends, are much more his area of expertise. But I think there’s a reason Ferdinand came to me. He knows I won’t bullshit him. Also, technically, I am in a greater position of political power than Sylvain, even though I choose to ignore that most of the time.

“Ferdie, I don’t know how to ask this nicely so I’m just going to say it. Is it your brain that trusts him or your dick?”

He blushes a bit and looks at me angrily. 

Alright. In retrospect, even I could have worded that better.

“Do you think so little of my judgment?” Ferdinand replies. “I love him, yes. But I loved him just as deeply, if not more, before the war too and still turned my back on him because I thought him a danger to Fódlan. Have not these past eight years been proof enough that I am well aware of my duty as a noble to put the good of my people first no matter the personal cost? Or did those years mean nothing?”

When I struggle to find the right words to reply, Ferdinand continues without waiting.

“I have one last argument in my case,” he says. “And it is that a life as an outlaw will only engender deeper hatred for the kingdom in him. Even should Hubert leave Fódlan, he could easily return and seek revenge. If you distrust him, the wisest course of action would be to keep him where he can be monitored. Place him on house arrest in Aegir with me. I will keep my eyes open for any signs of treachery. No prison will hold him; our best chance at keeping him on our side is to treat him with respect and with mercy.”

Now that’s the most convincing argument Ferdie has made yet.

“Alright. I’ll discuss it with Sylvain and let you know our decision,” I answer.

“Thank you, Felix.”

I start to return to the room, but pause and turn back to look at him. “The years you’ve fought with us do matter. Dimitri trusts you and so does Sylvain. You’re one of us, not an outsider.”

To my relief, Ferdie doesn’t say anything sentimental in return. He just nods gratefully.

When we walk back into the room, we find the chess club in chaos. Sylvain is fiercely contesting a play Hubert has made and Claude has given up on the two of them and is sitting next to Juniper on the floor helping her with her puzzle.

I should probably drag Sylvain back to his room and make him rest, but this is the happiest I’ve seen him look in a while. And when will he have the chance again to have his old friends in one room again? It is certainly an unlikely series of events that brought them back together in the first place.

Ferdie and I retreat to the opposite side of the room to drink more tea and he asks, “Linhardt says that you and Sylvain will be leaving Juniper here for treatment. What will become of her after that?”

“Sylvain and I need to talk to her about what she wants,” I reply. “Removing her crest must happen whether she wants to stay here or not. But after that, she should have a say in it. She’ll need schooling. If she still has magic after the treatment, then the best option would be the Royal School of Sorcery. It’s close to our territories so we can visit frequently. And I trust Annette. She can look out for Juniper. If magic isn’t an option, there is a local school in Gautier. Sylvain has been investing more money into it and it’s a good establishment. She would get a decent education.”

“It seems that no matter what you and Sylvain will be providing for her,” he says.

“Of course we will. We’re going to look for her family, but if she doesn’t have any, we’ll do our best to raise her ourselves.”

“I was not sure if you would choose to. You are both young.”

I frown. “If I trusted anyone else to keep her safe and make sure she is happy and provided for, maybe we wouldn’t. But I don’t.” I lower my voice and add, “It’s a lot… all of it. But it’s…” 

Why am I even talking about this with Ferdie? I’ve never confided in him before; never intended to. But either I be honest with him or with Hubert, since both of them care about Juniper’s future. I might as well have this conversation with Ferdie now since it will need to happen eventually.

“It’s good to have something to fight for. I never wanted to be responsible for anyone or anything. But now that my options in life are limited, I need to find a new mission to focus on. I’m not going to…” I frown and stare into my tea. “I’m not going to be the strongest swordsman in Fódlan. That ambition is beyond me now. I’ll need something else to keep me busy. Protecting Juniper is a better thing to devote my time to than anything else I can come up with.”

“She will be in good hands,” Ferdinand says. “It will pain Hubert to not see her but I am sure he will be reassured by knowing she is safe and prospering.”

“She’s a good kid. She deserves the best,” I say and he nods in agreement.

Sylvain and Hubert have at last come to some kind of agreement and have resumed their game in brooding silence. But right before they can finish it, the door opens and Hilda limps in.

“Here you all are! I’ve been looking everywhere. I can’t believe you made me limp all the way across this place! My leg’s still recovering,” she says with a dramatic sigh. She sees the chess board and rolls her eyes. “Oh goddess, you boys are back at it like it’s eleven eighty, aren’t you?” 

“We’re just trying to practice enough that we can take on Claude,” Sylvain says.

“Ha. Good luck with that,” she says. She walks over and sits down without hesitation in Claude’s lap. He winces a bit but doesn’t protest, smiling and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Hi, sweetie. I have something for you,” she says to Juniper and holds out the ugly yellow and pink knitted hat.

Juniper gasps and takes it from her excitedly. “You fixed it!”

“Yep! I patched it up and even added some stitched flowers on the side.”

Juniper puts on the abominable hat and smiles. “Thanks.”

“Aw, you look so adorable in it,” Hilda says, with a sweet sincerity that is either the product of delusion or deceit. 

As she and Claude talk to Juniper and help her with the puzzle, I go over to Sylvain and grab his arm. “Let’s go while we have babysitters,” I say.

He nods and tries to get to his feet, but staggers a bit. “Oof. I might have, uh, overdone it a bit walking over here.”

“I’d offer you my arm, but…” I mutter and Sylvain laughs. I can see the sorrow in his eyes whenever I make stupid jokes about my arm, but he understand me well enough to know that the last thing in the world I want is sympathy so the best thing he can do is laugh along.

It’s slow going, but he limps his way across the hospital, leaning heavily on my shoulder. And when we reach his room, he collapses onto the bed and exhales a long, pained breath.

“Tomorrow make them come to you if you want to play chess. You’re in the worst condition of everyone except Petra.”

“Claude’s leaving for Almyra tomorrow. Today was our only chance,” he says.

“Well, don’t let me catch you getting out of this bed for the rest of the day at least.”

“You know, the only way to enforce that is to stay here and keep an eye on me,” he says with a wink.

“Why are you trying to flirt with me? You know I’m going to stay. Why wouldn’t I?” I say, curling up next to him on the narrow hospital bed, pressed close but careful to avoid his still-healing wounds.

“Force of habit.”

“What habit? I’m the only person in Fódlan you haven’t consistently flirted with over the years.”

“I guess I’m making up for lost time then.”

I smile and tuck my head in the crook of his neck, pressing a kiss against his skin. We lie together in quiet peace for some time and I start to think Sylvain is dozing off. But then he breaks the silence by saying, “What did you talk about with Ferdie?”

“I told him that we agreed to take care of Juniper. And he asked for our help in securing a pardon for Hubert.”

“A pardon? Is he crazy?”

I relate my conversation to Sylvain and he mulls it over for a few minutes then says, “He has a point. It would be good to keep him where we have eyes on him. What do you think?”

“I wanted to hear your opinion first, but I think it’s a practical idea. I think Hubert will go off the deep end without Ferdie and I think Ferdie is the only person left alive who knows him well enough to keep an eye on him.”

“Juniper is really attached to him.”

“She gets attached to people far too easily. Did you see her actually smile at Hilda? What’s gotten into her?”

“She’s really come out of her shell, yeah. It makes me happy to see. Kids are so resilient. They can survive hell if they have someone who loves them and looks out for them.” He kisses the top of my head and adds quietly, “I know that better than anyone.”

I crane my head up to look at him. “Are we insane for agreeing to all this? What if we can’t find her family and we’re stuck with her forever?”

“Stuck?”

“You know what I mean. It’s probably more accurate to say that she would be stuck with us.”

“If we can’t find her family, then she will be Juniper Fraldarius,” he says firmly. “I don’t care if it is ridiculous for two crazy kids like us to try to take care of a crazy kid of our own.”

We have already talked through this several times but it still seems like a daunting decision. We are going to ask Juniper if she would even want to be our ward, but I doubt she will say no. She fears being abandoned even more than we hate the idea of abandoning her. 

“When we first found her, my instinct was to hand her over to Byleth and Dimitri. She could be a princess. You know Dimitri wouldn’t have the heart to turn away a stray kitten if we left it at his doorstep,” Sylvain continues. “But I guess he’s just as unqualified to be a parent as we are.”

“He’ll need to father his own brats to produce an heir,” I reply. “And as long as Byleth maintains a connection with Rhea it would be dangerous to let her get too close to Juniper lest Rhea find her by association.”

“About that…” Sylvain says.

Oh no. I know that tone.

“About what?” I ask.

“I didn’t walk all the way over to Hubert’s room just to play chess this morning. Claude convened a meeting. He wanted to know the truth about Rhea and the church from Hubert. Hubert was pretty tight-lipped at first but when Claude started spouting off all these theories, ninety percent of which were apparently true, he broke and told us what he knows. And, Fee, it’s…” He sighs. “It’s some heavy stuff. It would be hard to believe if it didn’t make perfect sense.”

“There’s a reason Edelgard targeted Rhea. I know. I always suspected as much but there was no way to know when we couldn’t take either her or Hubert prisoner,” I say, my heart falling with dread. “The way she sent Ashe to kill Lonato and you to kill Miklan never sat right with me. The goddess is supposed to be merciful and kind but Rhea was always cruel. But she can’t possibly be a threat now that she’s all weak and decrepit, right? She’s practically a hermit.”

“If she were a normal human perhaps,” Sylvain says in a hushed tone, stressing the word  _ human _ .

“Fuck. Are you saying that she’s-?”

“One of the Slithers? No. She’s something else, kind of like Byleth. Look, this is going to be a long conversation and I think it had better wait for another time. I’m barely able to stay awake. The short of it is, though, that something is going to need to be done about her. I’m leaving the details to Claude but a time may come when we might have to step in to help him. It won’t be a war, but it could be a fight. Not yet, though. Not until we’ve verified some of Hubert’s claims. Claude is going to take his time with it. But he promised Hubert he would see the matter through and I promised I would help if I needed to.”

“You signed us up for another war?” I say angrily.

“No. But I don’t want any loose ends, not after we’ve fought so hard and risked so much to have peace.”

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” I tell him. “I need all the information.”

He nods and takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Fuck, I’m tired.”

“Rest, you stubborn mule.”

“Stop distracting me then!”

I lean up and kiss his cheek then nestle down into the pillow, closing my eyes. “No more distractions. Sleep.”

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you too.”

I lie beside him long enough for him to fall asleep, then I slip out of bed and go over to the front of the room. Quietly pushing aside the table with medicine and equipment on it and the chair, I manage to clear about four or five feet of space to move about. I’d get an earful from Linhardt if I was caught wielding a sword and there isn’t room in here for weapons anyways. But I can at least work on my footwork and posture.

Once I’ve double-checked that Sylvain is sleeping soundly, I center myself in the small space and close my eyes, turning my attention inwards to the balance of my body. My fresh scars ache as I move, but I push every distracting sensation of pain, anger, worry and sadness out of my head and focus.

I would hardly call it training, but it is something. And as I work up a sweat with what exercises, stretches and balance tests I can manage, a tiny semblance of normalcy returns.


	28. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand & Hubert go home to Aegir, but not before making a visit to the royal cemetery in Hresvelg.

## 28 – Home 

###  **Ferdinand**

After securing a hard-won and tenuous pardon, dependent upon house arrest in the Aegir manor and detailed with conditions of revocation, all I want is to return home. I want to see Litha, who I had paid to be taken there after I was forced to part ways with her in Faerghus. I want to check on my people and read the town hall minutes and economic reports and make sure that nothing catastrophic has happened during my six-week absence. 

I want to make Hubert coffee in the mornings and fall asleep at night with him in my bed. I want to show him the library of books I have been slowly collecting and the way I have completely torn down Aegir manor to its foundations and remade it into something that can finally feel like a home to me. I want to see him smile in the sunlit gardens, even though at this time of year they are naught but sleeping husks of plants waiting for spring. And I want to have the safety and privacy of familiar walls around us when he jolts awake in the middle of the night in one of his panicked, dissociating episodes.

But before we go home, there is one last journey we must make. I specifically secured permission for this from Byleth and Dimitri as one of the conditions of Hubert’s pardon, and they did not argue with me on it. Dimitri visits her grave yearly too. He too is haunted by it.

By wyvern, it is only a two-day flight from Aegir to the region that used to be Hresvelg territory. It is under new ownership now, but the cemetery where centuries of Adrestria’s emperors have been laid to rest has been preserved as a memorial. 

There are armed guards stationed round it to prevent any kind of vandalism, but they let me through without question, for I visit every three or four months to pay my respects and make sure the place is being properly cared for. Silently, Hubert and I walk through the gates into the large swath of verdant land shaded by willow, plum and ash trees and divided into stately rows by stretches of carefully tended gardens. Each emperor’s grave is marked with a statue and around them are headstones for their family.

I watch Hubert out of the corner of my eye worriedly, but his expression remains fixed and emotionless as stone. My heart aches so sharply in my chest it causes visceral pain.

Slowly, row by row, we approach the newest statue at the far side of the cemetery. Dimitri commissioned the best craftsmen in Adrestria to carve it in her likeness, and yet it does not do her justice. No lifeless material could. 

Hubert’s steps become stiffer and his hands clench into fists at his side as we grow close. He stops fifteen feet away from the statue and freezes as if he too has been turned to stone. I want to reach out to comfort him but I know better than that. This is something Hubert must process on his own. I will be here when it is over.

“Ferdinand,” he says in a hushed, labored voice. “Leave me.”

Even though it makes the pain even more acute to abandon him, I cannot argue with him in this matter. He must do what he has to to handle his grief. With a solemn nod, I set down the bouquet of carnations at the base of her tomb and walk away to leave him in privacy.

A ways away and out of eyesight there is a marble bench under a willow tree and I sit down on it to wait. But I cannot stand to be alone with my thoughts, especially right now, so I end up on my feet pacing around restlessly.

An hour passes and worry surpasses my respect for Hubert’s wishes and I walk back. As I turn the corner around a tall mausoleum and catch sight of her grave, I stop, holding my breath.

Hubert is on his knees in front of her tombstone, face hidden in his hands, and his whole body is shaking. The sight stuns me for I have never once seen him shed a tear before, let alone weep like this. It seems too private and vulnerable a moment to intrude upon, so I slip away before he notices me and return to my spot under the willow tree.

This time I do not pace around and occupy my mind by cataloguing all the tasks I must do when I go home. This time I sit in the heaviness and numbness of a grief I have kept myself too busy to face for nearly three years.

I never loved her as Hubert did. She held my utmost admiration, to the point of obsession, but never my emotional attachment. My grief is for the tragedies that came about because none of us made the effort to understand her and the motivations behind her actions and the end goals she hoped to achieve from them. I grieve for what she could have been and for the strong, fearlessly idealistic leader this world lost because mistrust born from tragedy and trauma isolated her from anyone who could have offered her guidance.

My grief is nothing like Hubert’s; it is felt more in the mind than the heart. I cannot fathom the depth of his pain, for to him she was family, not of blood, but of choice. She was the little girl he had fought off an army as a boy to try to save, the friend who had leaned on him for support and guidance during their school days, the hero who had faced incredible challenges to fight back against the systems and tyrants that had made both of their lives hell. She was his emperor and his beloved little sister at the same time in a complicated mixture of respect, idolization, pity and devotion that I could never understand entirely.

I never liked the power she held over him and how his own desires and personality seemed to vanish when he was around her. I was frightened by how deeply that unquestioning loyalty had been ingrained in him and how he had never seemed to have a choice in the matter. But right now I know that my opinions are irrelevant. Whether not it was healthy, whether or not it was right, she was Hubert’s world and right now he is facing the fact that she is lying here in this graveyard where guards have to be posted because when they first buried her, some unconscionable bastards snuck in, painted the statue red, and tried to set fire to the grave. 

Lost so deep in my thoughts, I do not hear him approach until he says, “Let’s go,” and I jump.

I turn around to find him standing before me with his expression cold and composed once more. But I can see the red in his eyes and know that I did not imagine the sight of him weeping earlier.

I do not know what to say to him and moreover, I get the distinct feeling words of any kind are unwelcome at the moment. So I keep my mouth shut and walk in silence with him out of the cemetery, nodding at the guards as we depart through the gate.

It takes every ounce of restraint I have to stay quiet as we fly away but I manage to have self-control and since Hubert does not utter a single word all afternoon as we travel, I do not push him to. The hours of silence weigh heavily on my spirit and I am relieved when he finally breaks them at nightfall as we stop at a local inn. Once we have tended to our wyvern and retired for the night, he sits down on the bed and exhales a long, pent-up sigh.

“Thank you for giving me time to think,” he says.

Now that we are finally talking again, I find that I actually do not have anything to say. What can I possibly say that can be of any comfort to such profound grief?

“A day will come when we can speak of the past and of _her_ together with clarity and calm, but I fear I am not capable of it right now. I pray you will excuse me from any expectation of doing so tonight,” he continues. “The past need not…” He hesitates for a long moment. “I am not a forgiving man, Ferdinand. You know this about me. I will not forgive myself for my failure to her, and I will not forgive you for yours. But I think it needs to be said that whatever hatred I had for you, no matter how justified, no longer holds power over me. You and I… The only thing that matters to me anymore in regards to you is the present. Now and in the years to come, this present me will love this present you. The many past versions of ourselves that died during the war need not be brought into it. Do not ask for my forgiveness. But do not ever believe that I do not love you because I cannot offer it.”

As I listen to Hubert, I realize that we perhaps have different definitions of the word _forgiveness_. To him, it must mean condonement and acceptance. To me it is simply what he described: the conscious decision to not let the poison of the past affect the present. It requires neither the sanctioning of harmful actions nor the pretense of forgetting them. But that is a discussion for another day. For now, I am content with his words and grateful he chose to speak them aloud to me.

“I understand,” I tell him.

I climb into bed after undressing and pat the sheets beside me. Hubert lies down stiffly on his back and stares up at the ceiling. “I do not imagine I will get much sleep tonight,” he murmurs.

“Then I will stay awake with you. And as soon as our wyvern is rested, we will continue on to Aegir,” I reply.

His hand searches across the bed until it finds mine and he laces his fingers through mine tightly. Holding onto it like an anchor, he closes his eyes and falls into his brooding silence once more.

He is right: it is a long and arduous night where sleep is a mercy neither of us are granted. But we persevere and come morning, we are back in the saddle flying eastwards. And the next restless night we spend in the safety and sanctuary of home.

* * *

“I do not think ‘house arrest’ includes the entire territory,” Hubert grumbles as he follows behind me on my trek through the countryside.

“Oh hush, we are less than ten miles away from the house,” I reply.

“I do not understand why you, the duke, need to tromp around in muddy fields, let alone why I must accompany you.”

“A sorry duke I would be if I never deigned to get my boots dirty! It is imperative that I look over this parcel of land. There is a squabble over the price of it and I must step in to settle the dispute, but I can hardly do so if I do not have a good understanding of its quality.”

“Very well, but why am I here? What insights on soil composition and irrigation could I possibly have to offer?”

“You are here because your pleasant company makes it more enjoyable.”

“If I am unpleasant will you leave me in peace to study in the library next time?”

“No. I will keep dragging you out into the sunlight until you learn to like it,” I reply staunchly.

Hubert trips over a marmot burrow and swears. He catches me laughing at him and glowers at me.

We come to the top of the hill and I sit down to catch my breath, surveying the view of the fields below us critically. When I am done forming a list of advantages and disadvantages of the land to inform the price of it, I turn my attention back to Hubert who is sitting next to me, looking slightly winded and pale.

His sullen look is gone, though, and as he gazes out at the glowing expanse of sunlit land, there is even a trace of awe in his eyes. The wind tosses his curly hair back and forth and tugs at his cape, making him an even more dashing sight than he normally is.

“You’re staring at me,” he says after a moment.

“I am appreciating the view.”

He snorts a quiet laugh and shakes his head.

I reach over to pull him into my lap and kiss him hungrily. Even after weeks of having him here in Aegir with me, it still seems hard to believe sometimes and I am struck with the urge to reassure myself it is real.

But his mouth, warm and insistent against mine, is too captivating to be a product of my imagination and his hands running across my body are too satisfying to be a daydream. He kisses me back intently and for a while I lose myself in the beautiful feeling.

When we finally break apart, I smile at him and brush the wind-tangled hair out of his eyes. Mine is tightly braided and tied up in a bun behind my head, but Hubert is not as used to being out in nature as me and did not prepare accordingly. Even though he cut it, his hair is still long enough to get in the way on a blustery day like this.

He smiles back at me and says, “Is this why you bring me along?”

“Yes. I cannot bear to make it through all ten hours of my work day without a kiss.”

“What will you do when you travel?”

“Write you long letters and sigh longingly as I think of you.”

“What a ridiculous sight you will be, sitting at council tables in Fhirdiad, staring into the distance with a desolate expression like a love-struck idiot.”

“Indeed. But it cannot be helped,” I reply.

He stands up and holds out his hand to help me to my feet. “Let’s head back.”

“Not yet. There is an orchard a mile south of here that I need to examine.” I set off down the hillside and beckon for Hubert to follow.

With a long-suffering sigh but no more complaints, he catches up and falls into step beside me. 

“Thank you for joining me. I hope the day has not been irredeemably unpleasant,” I say.

A wry smile tugs at his lips as he replies, “It is easily redeemed by teasing you about its unpleasantness.”

“This is the life of a country noble. My territory contains some of the most fertile land on the continent and proper management of it not only affects the livelihoods of its farmers and citizens but also the economy of all of Fódlan.”

“Spare me another lecture on agricultural exports. I know how important your damn potatoes and wheat and whatever else it is that you grow here is!” he says.

I want to reply with a reprimand about how Aegir land is so much more than measly potatoes and wheat, but I am too distracted by how lovely it is to see such energy in Hubert’s demeanor. He is often worn out and depressed and it is a rare treat to see him so animated, even if it is taking the form of him being so contrary.

He catches me looking at him fondly and scoffs. “You are too besotted to even argue with me. What on earth are we to do if we can’t argue?”

“Make agreeable conversation like normal people do?” I offer.

“How boring.” 

At my indignant look, he laughs and adds, “There, that is better. Now you look like yourself again.”

“You exist to rile me,” I mutter.

“It is my favorite pastime, yes.”

I want to ask him what has bolstered his spirits so, but I fear creating any opening in the conversation for darker topics, for to draw attention to the levity of the moment is also to touch upon its contrast to his usual melancholy. So I let it go, but I make a note to myself to bring him out with me more often. The wind and sunlight and rich smell of the earth recently graced by rain is a healing potion of its own, after all.

I know that when we return home he will resume his tireless work on creating a healthy version of the valerian potion. I know that in the silence of night there will come the risk of his mood plummeting and his mind turning in on itself. Just as those long and painful hours of distress eventually pass, these hours of happiness wither away as well.

What matters is that he is seizing them when they come about. Peace, no matter how fleeting, is a victory in and of itself.

I want to tell him that I can see he is working to keep his promise and grow more stable. I want to express my admiration for how he has turned the unyielding determination with which he once fought wars to now fight battles of the complex and internal kind. And more than anything, I want to tell him that I love him, more and more each day, in a way that makes each of those hard nights worth it.

But this is a lighthearted moment and I will not spoil it with such earnest sentiments. So I take his hand in mine as we walk, and turn my attention towards merrily arguing with him about export laws and land management. And together we bask in the unspoken joy of normalcy.


	29. The Newlyweds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain and Felix's wedding + Claude assembles the band of heretics.

## 29 – The Newlyweds

###  **Garland Moon, 1199**

###  **Felix**

“Can I try some?” Juniper bugs me for the tenth time, staring longingly at my glass of wedding champagne. “It’s so pretty!”

“Fine, go ahead,” I say and hand it to her.

She takes one tiny sip of it and gags.

“Told you,” I say and take the glass back, draining it in one long gulp and wincing as the bubbles tickle my mouth.

“Felix!” Dimitri chides, walking over to sit beside us, even though Juniper and I are hiding out in the corner of the ballroom with the express purpose of not being bothered. “Were you just giving a child alcohol?”

“Arrest me,” I reply with an annoyed look, “or shut up about my parenting decisions.”

He gives me a skeptical frown then smiles down at Juniper. “You did an excellent job fighting in the tournament.”

“That other kid beat me,” she mutters darkly.

“He is three years older than you and has been training to be a squire. There is no shame in a loss to such an opponent.”

“I fight to win,” she says.

Dimitri gives me a look that says, _‘you are a bad influence’_ and I smirk slightly in response.

“Aren’t you going to go dance with your wife?” I ask him, trying to get him to go away. Eight hours into this interminable wedding day, I have hit my limit of socializing.

“She is busy dancing with your husband,” he replies.

I glance over and see Sylvain careening wildly around the room with Byleth, seemingly tireless even though he fought in our tournament and has been dancing for an hour to boot.

“Besides,” Dimitri adds. “I fear I still have not learnt how to handle parties like this. I feel so out of place.”

“Blame Hilda. Sylvain was content with not having a wedding until she interfered.”

To my horror, Linhardt now walks over to sit next to us, undeterred by my exasperated look.

“Glare all you want. I’ve become immune,” he tells me. “This is a good hiding spot. You can’t hog it all to yourself.”

“Obviously it’s not since you are all harassing me,” I grumble.

“But I brought food. Surely that makes me welcome,” he says, holding out a tray of hors d'oeuvres. Dimitri takes a slice of some kind of fancy vegetable thing and Juniper snags a custard tart with a murmur of thanks.

For the life of me, I can’t figure out why he is even here. I had no say in the guest list. But it seems everyone we have ever met and a hundred people we haven’t ended up coming. Linhardt is probably just here for the food. But then again, so am I.

“How’re you doing, kiddo?” Linhardt asks Juniper. He keeps his tone casual as always but I can see the keen, evaluating way he studies her. It has been two months since she was released from his hospital and even though her recovery appears to have been thorough, we are all waiting to see if there are lingering impacts to her health from the long and arduous process.

“Fine,” she says distractedly as she watches the people dancing. I get the impression she has been trying to work up the courage to join them all evening because she keeps tapping her foot on the floor along with the music and studying the movements of the dances with fascination. But like me, she is overwhelmed by the large crowd.

“Do you want me to ask Sylvain to teach you?” I ask her, gesturing at the dancing.

She shakes her head anxiously. “He’s too loud right now.”

I watch him for a moment and realize that he is laughing too much and talking a bit too animatedly. The idiot must be tipsy.

“How about I ask Mercedes? She is an excellent dancer and very soft-spoken,” Dimitri offers.

“Good idea,” I tell him and he gets up to go find her. Juniper looks at me questioningly and I say, “You’ll like Mercedes; don’t worry.”

I shoot Linhardt a look, hoping he’ll fuck off too, but he ignores me, pulling a book out of his coat pocket and starting to read.

A few minutes later, Dimitri returns with Mercedes who whisks Juniper away to learn how to dance. Juniper casts a worried look at me but I give her an encouraging nod and beckon for her to go and try to have fun.

“You are doing a good job raising her,” Dimitri comments.

“How the hell would you know? How would any of us know? All our parents were awful. We’re just making this up as we go,” I reply.

“Try reading a book then,” Linhardt chimes in. “I doubt you have any good texts on the subject in _Faerghus-_ ” He accentuates the word with a scoffing tone that I have to admit is not unwarranted. “-but you could find some elsewhere.”

“Fine. Send me a list,” I reply.

“Do your own research,” he mutters.

Hitting my limit of small talk, I get up and say, “Dima, keep an eye on Juniper, will you? I’m going to go get a breath of air. It’s stuffy in here.”

He nods and turns his attention to the dance floor, watching her dutifully and cautiously as if she might be kidnapped at any moment and the fate of the world rests on his ability to keep her safe.

Goddess help that man if he ever has kids. He would die of a heart attack if one of them fell off a swing and sprained their wrist.

Leaving the party behind, I sneak out onto the balcony and breathe a sigh of relief when I find it unoccupied. But my peace is short-lived, for after only ten minutes or so the curtain hiding the balcony from the main hall is tugged aside and someone steps through.

“Sylvain,” I say as he saunters over to me with a big, dazzling smile. “Enjoying the wine?”

“Oh yes.” He gathers me in his arms and kisses me deeply. I can tell by the intent way he kisses me that he is not actually inebriated. His drunk kisses are always all sloppy and clumsy. This one is far too purposeful. He must just be in high spirits because he is having a good time.

The thought makes all this nonsense seem more worth it. He has been working tirelessly these past six months to manage both our territories and has done a good job of it to boot. He deserves to cut loose and have some fun.

He hums against my lips happily and grabs my waist, swinging me around to press my back against the wall. Leaning in closer, he slips one hand under my leg and lifts it up to wrap around his waist.

“We can’t-” I gasp as he grinds his hips against mine and tips his head down to bite my neck playfully. “Not right now! _Sylvain!_ What if-”

He interrupts me with a kiss but as his tongue slips deeply into my mouth, I bite down on it and he yelps and jerks away. “What was that for?”

“Keep it together!” I hiss. “We’re in public.”

“We’re newlyweds!” he argues. “This is what newlyweds do!”

“Not when half of Fódlan is one curtain away!”

With a sigh, he lets go of me and steps back. “You’re right.”

He wanders over to the railing and leans on it, staring out across the Fhirdiad city lights. I join him and he wraps one arm around my waist, tugging me close. “I hope you’re not too miserable. I’m having a fun time.”

“The tournament was alright,” I say.

“Juniper did good. You’ve been training her well.”

“If only she’d care as much about schooling as much as she does swordplay.”

“She takes after you.”

“She doesn’t ‘take after’ either of us, you idiot,” I reply. “She’s not blood-related.”

I hear footsteps approaching and turn around to see Claude stepping out onto the balcony. “Oh thank the saints,” he says with a laugh. “It was a dangerous bet following you two out here but I need to talk to you so I risked it.”

“Dangerous?” I ask.

“You’re newlyweds sneaking out of your wedding reception,” he says teasingly. “Of course it was dangerous.”

“See?” Sylvain says, elbowing me in the ribs. “It’s practically expected of us.”

I shoot him a look then ask Claude, “What do you need to talk about?”

“The reason I came here,” he says. “As fun as this has been, I didn’t come here to win your archery tournament and dance with Hilda.”

“You didn’t? I thought we were friends!” Sylvain says. “Are you saying you didn’t come to celebrate with us?”

“Two birds, one stone,” he replies. “Let’s go somewhere private, shall we?”

Understanding dawns on me and my heart falls. So it’s time now.

“Fee, go open up the council room upstairs. I’ll get Ferdie and the others then distract Dimitri and Byleth while they head up here,” Sylvain says.

I nod and beckon for Claude to follow me. As discreetly as possible, we steal through the crowded palace towards the government chambers on the far side. When we are at last in the privacy of a thick-walled council room with armed guards and heavy locks, I turn to him and say, “So you’ve found your evidence then.”

He nods gravely. “Yeah. It’s a lot to swallow. Hubert wasn’t lying about any of it and there’s actually a lot he didn’t even know. I wish he was here, but I get that he can’t be involved in this.”

Claude goes and methodically searches the room to double-check we are safe and have total privacy. By the time he is done with his exhaustive examination, Ferdinand, Hilda, and Holst show up. And a moment later, Linhardt strolls in, making me realize finally why he is here. Claude must have been the one to invite him. Finally, Sylvain jogs into the room.

“Welcome, fellow heretics,” Claude says once we’ve all gathered. “I have news.”

Hilda sits down on the table and sighs. “Couldn’t this wait until after dessert?”

“We did cake an hour ago,” Sylvain says.

“What? I missed it? I’m the one who chose that cake!” she says in dismay. “Is there any left? There better be some left.”

“You’ll have to fight Lysithea for it,” Linhardt mumbles.

“Oh I will.” Hilda glances back at Claude and says, “Sorry. Back to business.”

“What have you found out about Rhea?” Ferdinand asks.

“The kind of insane things none of us would believe if we hadn’t fought a horde of thousand-year-old corpses,” he answers. 

“I assume you have actual evidence to whatever preposterous things you’re about to claim?” Linhardt says.

Claude takes a thick leather-bound book from a bag hidden under his cloak and lays it down on the table. There is some kind of magic seal on it that takes him a minute to unlock and once he does, a whole sheath of papers spills out that Linhardt eagerly snatches up.

“You broke into the Shadow Library?” Linhardt asks with a hint of awe in his voice.

“The what?” I ask.

“Long story for another time,” Claude says. “We’ll get into the why and how in a minute, but the crux of the matter is that Rhea’s abdication to Byleth is only temporary and, judging by her patterns of behavior for the past thousand years, she fully intends to rise to power again and rebuild the church to the tyrannical authority it used to be before Byleth and Dimitri reformed it. I don’t intend to let her do that. Not only does it just piss me off, but that would also undo everything I’ve worked for. The church of Seiros’s isolationist dogma is exactly why Fódlan became so hostile and cut off from the rest of the world to begin with.”

Holst leans against the table next to Hilda and looks grimly at Claude. “At what point do we involve Dimitri and Byleth?”

“Once we’ve baited Rhea into showing her true form. I can’t ask Byleth to just take my word on this. She’s gotta see it with her own eyes,” Claude replies. “If my theories are true, though, Byleth will have more to gain by taking Rhea down than all of us. We just need to convince her.”

“Just start at the beginning. Tell us everything,” Sylvain says.

“Okay. Listen up.”

* * *

  
  


I know it must be well into the early hours of the morning but I can’t bring myself to leave the training hall. Over and over again, I go through the exercises I have practiced since childhood, tailoring them to work with my left hand. I’ve had to develop a new sort of fighting style that is less aggressive and puts a higher emphasis on defense since my right side is vulnerable. 

While I was in Derdriu, Linhardt worked on an attachment for my right arm that would allow me to carry the Aegis Shield in battle at least, but it was nearly impossible to bear the weight of the shield, let alone hold back an attack with it. Until he figures out how to make the contraption sturdier, I will have to fight hard to make up for the gap in my defenses.

I know I’ll never be the swordsman I was, especially not the one I dreamed of being. But even so, after half a year, I should have made more progress than this! I can’t even beat Sylvain yet! How am I supposed to live the rest of my life with him if I can’t beat his insufferable smug ass in a duel when we have an argument to settle?

Now that we’re living back in Gautier, Juniper spends a good portion of her day at school and with tutors and governesses so I have more time on my hands to train. I need to use that time to work harder and make better progress.

Throwing my sword aside with a growl of frustration, I wipe the sweat off my brow then take a deep breath and focus.

I raise my arm even though it is aching and my hand is trembling. Tracing a spell rune in the air to ignite my magic, I grit my teeth and cast the spell, launching a weak lightning bolt at the training dummy. It singes a small hole but doesn’t do much damage.

So wrapped up in spellcasting, I almost miss the door to the training hall creaking open. When I finally register the sound, I jump, nearly throwing a lightning bolt at the intruder.

“Whoa, whoa there,” Holst says, holding out his palms in surrender. “I haven’t even warmed up yet.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I could ask you the same thing. It’s your wedding night.”

“My wedding night became the eve of battle thanks to Claude,” I say.

“Shit timing, huh?”

“Yes, but it made sense. It gave Claude an opportunity to speak to all of us. If he’d summoned us all to meet up for no reason it would have drawn suspicion.”

Holst nods and takes off his coat, rubbing his right arm and swinging it stiffly in a circle with a wince. Even after all these months, he is still struggling to be the warrior he was before the fight with Nemesis too. He may not have lost an arm, but the Sword of the Creator still damaged him to a point where the best healers in Fódlan couldn’t restore his strength and dexterity perfectly.

“I assume you’re here for the same reason as me then,” he says. “You don’t want to be dead weight on this mission.”

“I won’t be,” I say with more confidence than I deserve. “I can use my left hand and I’ve been studying magic too as a backup.”

“Show me,” he says.

“You want to spar?” I ask, trying to hide my apprehension. Even with Holst not at a hundred percent, I will still definitely lose to him.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I want to train. I think you and I can help each other. I will show you how to strengthen your spells and in return you can give me pointers on how to compensate for this bum arm of mine.”

“You can’t move it?”

“I can fight with it, but it gets stiff easily and seizes up. In case I lose feeling in it during a battle, I need to be able to adapt. I figured you could help.”

I consider his offer for a moment, then decide that accepting his help is worth the hit to my pride. “Can you teach me Abraxas?”

Holst laughs. “Ambitious.”

“Well, can you?”

“Probably, yeah. Faith magic runs strong in your family. But trying to cast a high level spell like that right now will only backfire. You need to work up to it. Let’s start with Aura. Your brother taught me Aura. It was his bread and butter spell.”

It hits me like a ton of bricks that Holst and Glenn went to Garreg Mach together and I freeze. “You knew him?”

“Knew him?” A shadow falls across Holst’s face. “He was my best friend. Didn’t he ever mention that?”

“Glenn always said he didn’t have time to make friends.”

Holst smiles sadly. “That does sound like something he’d say.”

For a moment, I stand there awkwardly waiting for Holst to either talk more about Glenn or change the subject. To my simultaneous disappointment and relief he does the latter.

“So what spells do you know so far?” he asks.

“The basic elementals. And Lysithea taught me Seraphim but I don’t think I can cast it swiftly and powerfully enough for combat yet.”

“Alright. We’ll start with Seraphim then.”

Holst and I train together until we are both about ready to drop. 

As we finally call it quits and clean up the training hall, Holst says, “I hope we have a chance to train together again.”

“Why? Are you so bored now that you have peace with Almyra that you're willing to spar with a one-armed opponent?” I joke.

“Peace with Almyra is the best thing that I’ve been able to accomplish in my life,” he says seriously.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Holst smiles a little bitterly. “I know, but I think you still understand me.”

I scoff. “I’m too exhausted for cryptic remarks like that. But yes, if you want to train again sometime, I would be happy to. Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime,” he says with a tired wave as I leave the training hall.

My whole body aches and the core of magic energy inside me feels strained and cold as I walk back to my room and sneak in, hoping I don’t wake Sylvain.

He is still snoring soundly so I go over to the adjacent washroom and draw a bath. I have to muffle a groan as I lower my sore body into the huge tub of hot water and feel it instantly soothing my overtaxed muscles. Leaning back against the wall of the tub, I stretch out my legs and close my eyes.

My head is still buzzing from the new information on spells and the techniques we practiced but the manic sort of energy subsides after a bit and as my mind settles, the exhaustion my anxious state was staving off comes flooding back in.

“Fee? What the-? Fee!”

I jerk awake and splash now-cold water across Sylvain who is standing beside the bathtub with a look of concern. 

“I did not marry you only to have you drown in a bath and leave me a widower after less than twenty-four hours!” he says, so startled he is practically shouting.

“I would have woken up if I’d started drowning,” I argue. “Who the fuck sleeps through drowning?”

“Who the fuck falls asleep in a bathtub big enough to drown in? At five in the morning, no less!” he replies.

Climbing out of the tub, I grab a towel and start vigorously drying myself off as I shiver.

“Did you already go train? It’s barely dawn,” he asks, noticing a fresh bruise on my arm from where Holst’s blunt training sword caught me.

I nod and finish drying off, hurrying back into the bedroom and jumping under the blankets. Sylvain follows me and pulls me into his arms, flinching as I press my icy cold hand and feet against him to warm them up.

“You’re the worst,” he grumbles.

I kiss him to make up for using him as a heater and he kisses me back begrudgingly for a second then fondly as he forgives me.

“Did you sleep at all?” he asks.

“A few hours.”

“We didn’t go to bed until midnight,” he says.

“Alright,” I concede. “One hour.”

“I thought you said that the potion Hubert made you helped with the insomnia.”

“It does. It just… It wasn’t insomnia. It was my choice. I wanted to train. And I’m glad I did. Holst showed up too and he worked with me on my spells. I learned a lot.”

“I expected to be the one keeping you up on our wedding night,” he says with a sigh. “But I guess no one can compete with Holst Goneril.”

“It’s not my fault you passed out at midnight after one orgasm like an amateur.”

“It was a long day!”

“I’m only teasing you. This wedding was just a stupid formality. Who cares what we did the night after it? We can fuck whenever we want and it’s not as if we waited for marriage anyways.”

Sylvain pulls back a bit to look me in the eyes. “Stupid formality?”

Realizing that he took my typical grousing more seriously than I intended, I lean in and kiss his cheek to reassure him. “The part where you said your vows to me wasn’t stupid. And I liked the feast afterwards. And the toast that Ingrid gave us was surprisingly good.”

“Did you see Dima? He was tearing up.”

“Idiot.”

Sylvain smiles. “I’m glad we did this. I know you didn’t want to, and I didn’t really want to either at first. But then when the day came, it just felt right. Thank you for putting up with all this. It made me really happy.”

“That’s all that matters to me.”

Wrapped up in Sylvain and sheltered under the covers, warmth begins to seep back into my body and I sigh, tucking my head in the crook of his neck and closing my eyes. I still feel so exhausted it is hard to keep them open.

“How bad is it?” Sylvain murmurs after we rest in silence together for ten or fifteen minutes. “Are you doing as bad as you were when we reunited a year ago?”

His question catches me off guard and I don’t reply immediately.

“I’ve been so busy all the time, I haven’t noticed the signs,” he continues. “But you’re sleeping less and training more, just like you were back then.”

“No, it’s different this time,” I answer.

“It is?”

“I am not going to lie and say that I haven’t been feeling a little like I did back then. But I am much more in control of it than I was last year. That potion helps me sleep without giving me nightmares; I just have to make myself take it. And whenever I start feeling crazy, I have things to distract myself with now. I lost it back then because I was alone. I’m not alone anymore. I promise you: I won’t get like that again.”

“Good. I’ve been worried about you.”

“You have enough things to worry about. Trust me when I say that I will be fine. I’m not the man I was a year ago.”

Sylvain sighs and kisses the top of my head. “I’m here for you, Fee. No matter how busy you and I are, our first priorities are to each other. Promise?”

“I promise.”

He falls silent for a while then speaks up again. “Do you think this time next year we really will finally have peace? Or do you think as soon as we finish one fight another one will crop up for the rest of our lives? We stopped the Agarthans; now we have to stop Rhea. What comes after Rhea? More thousand-year-old dragon deities trying to enslave humanity? I can’t keep up anymore.”

“Maybe it will be something more mundane like trade conflicts with Morfis or simply a bandit uprising,” I say.

“I want Juniper to be able to grow up without us limping home from battle every few months half-dead. That kind of stress isn’t good for a child.”

“I know. We could swear that we are done after this Rhea business,” I offer. “We’re not knights. We don’t have to ride off to battle.”

“We can’t bury our head in the sand and ignore calls for help when we’re needed. But we also have a family now. There’s a reason lifelong soldiers like Holst don’t get married and have a kid. You have to choose one or the other unless you intend to be a terrible parent and spouse.”

“Stop being so philosophical, Sylvain. It’s five in the morning and I haven’t slept.”

“I’m serious,” he says.

I sigh. “I know you are.”

His arms tighten around me and he presses another kiss against the top of my head. “I don’t think our lives are ever going to be what I wanted them to be.”

“Simple?”

“Yeah.”

“No, they’re probably not going to be.”

“I used to be so scared you would go around chasing after battles for the rest of your life and would never want to settle down with me. I’m not worried about that anymore; you’ve proven you are more sensible than that. Now I’m worried the battles will chase us.”

“Then we will win them quickly so we can go back home and return to paperwork and training and lecturing Juniper about doing her homework.”

Sylvain laughs faintly. “That sounds so normal. Have we become normal, Fee? When did that happen?”

“Fuck if I know. Now please, will you let me sleep for a couple hours before breakfast?”

“Alright, go ahead. I’ll stop jabbering at you.”

“Thanks.”

He adjusts so we are both in a more comfortable position to sleep and together, we drift off for a while until a knocking on the door wakes us up.

“Wake up, you two!” Ingrid yells from the hallway. “What’s the point of ordering this huge wedding brunch and then making everyone wait around to eat it? I’m hungry and it’s going to go cold! Get your asses down here so we can eat!”

Mumbling disjointed curses, we both stumble out of bed and pull on clothes. My hair is a disaster after falling asleep with it wet and tangled and Sylvain laughs when he sees it.

“Come here,” he says.

He has gotten good at fixing it for me lately and in a matter of moments, he has it pulled up into a respectable-looking bun.

I give him a nod of gratitude and we leave our room and follow Ingrid down to the dining room where our forgotten wedding brunch is waiting.

“Please collect your child too,” Ingrid says. “She’s been following me around all morning asking to spar with me.”

Sylvain laughs. “Good girl.”

I brace myself for commotion when we enter the dining room, but instead I find a handful of our friends lounging around the table, most half-asleep or nursing cups of tea with obvious hangover headaches.

“Alright, they’re here finally. Eat up, everyone!” Ingrid says.

“You didn’t have to wait,” I tell her.

“It’s _your_ wedding. Besides the point of this brunch is that everyone can give you your presents.”

I groan. “Fuck. Please, no. No presents. It’s too early to have to smile and hug people.”

“Suck it up,” she says. “I got you a great present and I expect you to appear grateful about it.”

As Sylvain makes the rounds saying good morning to everyone with an unreasonably bright smile, I go over to sit by Ferdinand since he has a pot of coffee in front of him. He smiles at me wordlessly as I sit down and pours me a cup. I think after all this time, even Ferdie has learned when to be quiet around me.

After a couple mugs of coffee, I begin to feel more alive and I glance over at Ferdie and say, “Good job in the lance tournament yesterday.”

“Thank you. It was certainly a challenge facing off against Sylvain! We are very evenly matched.”

“I’m glad you didn’t let him win just because it was his wedding.”

“I would never patronize someone I respect by not giving my all in a fight.”

Maybe he heard his name or maybe he just got tired of small talk with our hungover friends, but Sylvain wanders over and sits down next to us. He picks up my half-empty cup of coffee, takes a tiny sip and grimaces. “How you and Hubert drink this is beyond me.”

“With enough practice and perseverance, you can acquire a taste for it,” Ferdinand says.

Juniper comes over with a heaping plate of food and when I steal a slice of bacon off of it, she glares at me.

“What? You brought enough for all of us,” I say.

“I’m hungry,” she replies.

Sylvain takes a piece of a fruit off her plate and she sighs in frustration.

“May I have one of your biscuits?” Ferdinand asks.

Juniper frowns at the three of us, then sets down her tray with a huff and gets up to go fetch another one for herself. With a laugh, Sylvain hands Ferdie one of the biscuits and takes the second one for himself.

By the time she returns with a second plate, the offense of confiscating her food seems to have been forgotten because she is happy and smiling again.

“Hold on, kid. You’ve got something in your hair,” Sylvain says, reaching over to brush it out. 

He gasps and I look over at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Ow! Don’t tug at my hair!” Juniper says.

Sylvain points at her head and I look closer to see a tiny patch of reddish brown at the roots of her hair.

“Is she bleeding?” Ferdinand asks in alarm.

“No, it’s her hair.” Sylvain says then smiles brightly at Juniper as she looks at him in confusion. “The color is coming back to your hair!” he explains.

Her eyes light up. “Really?” She drops her fork with a clatter and races off to go find a mirror.

“It worked. The crest really is gone for good,” Ferdinand murmurs in amazement. “Hubert will be so relieved to hear that. He worries endlessly about her.”

I glance at Sylvain and find him staring at me with a joyful look in his eyes. He smiles slightly and I smile back.

“She’s going to have a normal life,” he says, his voice hushed and thick with emotion.

“With you two as guardians?” Ferdinand says dubiously.

“Shut up, Ferdie,” I say.

But Sylvain just laughs. “Maybe not normal, yeah.”

“But safe,” Ferdinand adds with a smile. “That is what matters.”

Ingrid walks over and leans against the edge of the table. “Any particular reason your child just flew out of the room like a bat out of hell?”

“She does that,” Sylvain says. “Kids, am I right? They’re crazy.”

Ingrid gives him a suspicious stare.

“How’s the food?” I ask Ingrid to change the subject and she immediately brightens up.

“It’s amazing,” she says. “Aside from watching Sylvain get his ass kicked by Ferdinand, the food has been the best part of this whole thing.”

“I did not get my ass kicked!” Sylvain protests. “Were you even watching the fight? It was practically a draw!”

As Ingrid and Sylvain start bickering, I excuse myself and wander away, followed by Ferdinand who looks deeply distressed at the idea of being caught in the middle of them.

“More coffee?” Ferdinand asks me.

“Sure. Thanks.”

He leaves to refill the pot and I lean against the wall in the corner of the room with a yawn as I wait for him to return. My body still feels shaky and there is a haze of bleariness and static in my mind from lack of sleep, but it is manageable.

Tonight I’ll make sure I take that potion and sleep. We are going to ride out to Zanado early next week, after all. I have to be ready for a fight, even though I hope it won’t come to one.

“Here you go,” Ferdie says, returning with a fresh pot of coffee and handing me a cup.

“Thanks,” I say and sip it even though it burns my tongue a bit.

“Goodness, they are still arguing,” he says, looking over at Sylvain and Ingrid.

“Be grateful you didn’t have to grow up with them.”

He can’t seem to find a polite reply so he says nothing at all.

I sigh and drain my coffee cup in one gulp. “I’ll go save him.”

“Good luck,” Ferdinand says nervously.

Marching back over to them, I grab Sylvain’s arm and say, “Come help me find Juniper.”

Before either him or Ingrid can say another word, I drag Sylvain out of the dining room and kick the door closed behind us.

“All these years and still not a bit of respect for me. I can’t believe she-” he starts but I push him back against the door and interrupt him with a kiss.

He is stunned for a moment, seeing as I am not normally one for displays of affection in a semi-public place like this where anyone could walk by. Then he throws his arms around my neck and kisses me back with abandon.

“What’s gotten into you?” he whispers breathlessly.

“Nothing. I just love you,” I reply.

“Really? Wow. We should get married.”

I scoff and kiss him again, hard enough this time that when we part that stupid grin is gone and he is looking at me an earnest look in his big, brown eyes.

“I love you too,” he says, “more than anything.”


	30. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpts from the journal of Hubert von Vestra
> 
> Guardian Moon 1188 through Blue Sea Moon 1199
> 
> [A little timeline for context: The events of the main story wrap up in Ethereal Moon (December) 1188. That's when Ferdinand & Hubert returned to Aegir. Guardian Moon (January) through Blue Sea Moon (July) are the following seven months. The Sylvix wedding and fight with Rhea happen during Garland Moon (June).]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, [LOOK AT THIS AWESOME ART](https://twitter.com/sethkiell/status/1277749282729111552)! I commissioned the very talented Sethkiel on Twitter as a reward to myself for finishing this book. And they created this beautiful painting of Hubert & Juniper! Gonna frame this like a family portrait and put it on my wall. None of my irls will know it's not actually my family. 
> 
> Second, before we wrap up this story, I just wanted to say again thank you so much to everyone who read this story. It was never supposed to get this long and large-scale, but I ended up pouring my heart and soul into it and it has been so incredibly encouraging to see that you stuck with it to the end!  
> 2020 has been arduous and painful so far, and having a project to focus on has been a huge help to me in staying sane. Thank you for making that project so enjoyable!
> 
> And as always, hit me up on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/lalexanderwrite) if you ever want to chat video games and writing!

## 30 – Epilogue

_Excerpts from the journal of Hubert von Vestra_

_Guardian Moon 1188 through Blue Sea Moon 1199_

_GM/5/1188_

My work on a nonaddictive iteration of the valerian potion that could be healthy enough for sustainable use is, at the moment, fruitless. Since this endeavor is insufficient for the kind of progress I must achieve, I have, at Ferdinand’s insistence, agreed to see a counselor once every fortnight who has a reputation for helping soldiers and victims of the war. Said counselor has assigned me certain tasks, one of which is recording the mundanity of my life in this journal. The goal at the moment is emotional regulation, for my shifting mental states are apparently one of the most treatable of my symptoms. The brief episodes of psychosis and panic will require medicinal measures, but irregularities in cognition and emotion I am told can be remedied through practices such as this, pointless as they may seem.

I know not what to write. My days, although predominantly pleasant, are unvaried and tame. I wake early and usually end up in the kitchen, for I have come to enjoy the routine of cooking. It keeps my mind and my hands busy and it is satisfying to offer some tangible act of service to Ferdinand, who I fear continuously offers more to me than I to him.

Perhaps this selfish decision of mine to share my life with him will prove to be the wrong one in time. But I will leave my deliberations on that matter to the early hours of the morning when I lie awake agonizing over them and not waste my time right now putting them on paper.

* * *

_GM/20/1188_

I take amusement in the horror the government of this new unified Fódlan would feel if they were to know that much of the legislation being drafted for the Adrestrian territories is penned by me. Ferdinand presents the proposals as his own, of course, but in an effort to keep myself busy I spend much of my day working on them with him. Together we are quite a political force to be reckoned with. In this one thing at least I am useful. 

Ferdinand has a deep empathy for his people and a keen mind always eager to analyze and assimilate new information, but he lacks subtlety and the patience to consider long-term strategies. I think when we put our heads together to tackle a problem, we balance each other out well and achieve excellent results.

* * *

_?_

[scratched out words] 

[a smeared blot of ink]

Fuck this.

[equations scrawled in the margins]

I can’t get it right! Nothing is fucking working! This was a mistake. All of this. I should never have been so foolish as to think that this fucking pointless endeavor was anything other than scrambling around in the dark grasping at straws. I will [words illegible]

* * *

_PM/11/1188_

I am damn near close to tossing this book in the fire. I cannot get the formula for the valerian potion right still and writing inane paragraphs about my days and drinking weak, ineffective tea that tastes like dirt and grass is not enough. I promised I would make progress. But for every step forward I take, I fall back two more. 

I had a psychotic episode last night, as the mess that is the previous page evidences. I set the kitchen on fire trying to cobble together a potion of some kind to ease the panic clawing around in my brain. It scared Ferdinand half to death. The servants managed to put out the fire before it spread but no one is going to be cooking in that kitchen anytime soon.

Ferdinand has been giving me nervous looks all day although he seems to think he is hiding his concern from me behind that aggravating smile of his. Does he really think he can fool me? He realizes that I am getting worse but he is trying to pretend he doesn’t. He knows, though; I am sure of it. We both know that I am not getting better. There is no better version of me that can be restored. This is what I am, what I fear I have always been long before this illness took root in my brain and blossomed into a madness that I could no longer hide from myself and others.

I should leave before I burn anything else down.

* * *

_LM/9/1188_

A foal was born this morning. Ferdinand was up with the mare the whole night apparently. I awoke to an empty bed and when I went in search of him I found him in the stable, sitting wearily on a bale of hay, covered in grime and dirt and goodness knows what else. It was quite disgusting. We had a good laugh about it. I tried to convince him to come inside and bathe but he insisted on keeping an eye on the newborn so I stayed with him until the afternoon, sorely neglecting the heaps of paperwork on both of our desks.

After much discussion, we have named the foal Cassiopeia. It is far too elegant a name for such a plain, gangly little creature. But Ferdinand says she will grow into it. 

* * *

_LM/18/1188_

Today marks three weeks now since my last psychotic episode. Last week I finally perfected the potion. Its addictive qualities have been removed. It does interfere with my appetite and makes eating a chore, but it is effective enough to calm my mind when it is spiraling out of control without being so effective as to completely remove me from reality. I felt the onset of an episode last night and took the potion preemptively. Although I cannot say it was a pleasant night and my mind was not without some turmoil, I remained lucid and in control of my behavior and cognitions. It does not make me listless and somnolent, nor does it cause fever and cravings after its effects have worn off.

It will need refining still, but I have hope finally. I have been missing a piece of the puzzle trying to gain control over my mind without a medicinal element of treatment. The implementation of practices and structures in my lifestyle recommended by the counselor can only go so far. But medicating harmfully is not an option anymore either. 

My efforts at recovery have felt so infuriatingly futile. I awake and work every day only to have whatever tenuous stability I build crumble every night. Perhaps now I will be able to move forward and grow stronger.

I have catalogued the final list of its properties below, as well as a current list of its known side effects. I will continue to monitor symptoms. Linhardt is set to visit in a couple weeks as he is interested in my concoction. He thinks it can help the patients in his hospital greatly.

* * *

_GTM/5/1199_

Damn. I have forgotten to write lately. It has been a busy few days with Linhardt here. He is not demanding company and wants only to be left alone in the library to pour over the notes of my experimentation with valerian. The exhausting nature of the week comes from trying to keep Ferdinand from overwhelming Linhardt with attempts at socializing. Linhardt has threatened to steal all my work and warp away somewhere where he can study it in peace if Ferdinand keeps interrupting him. But it is not easy to say no to Ferdinand when he digs his heels in like an angry donkey and insists that a social visit involves at least one cup of tea being shared together.

I feel for Linhardt. I truly do. 

Perhaps we shall invite someone else over next to comfort Ferdinand’s hurt feelings – someone who talks. I would dearly like to see Juniper. Linhardt says her recovery will be complete enough for her to leave the hospital soon. Should I write Sylvain and ask if he and Felix will bring her for a visit? Would that even be possible?

I had hoped to have a way to see her from time to time, but I cannot set foot in Faerghus. I should not worry about her; she is no longer my responsibility. But I worried about her every day for two years. I suppose old habits die hard. I still find myself worrying about whether she is happy and having the childhood that she deserves. At least I know she is safe and loved.

* * *

_GTM/16/1199_

[Pasted against the page is a scrap of paper with a rudimentary drawing of a pegasus on it. At the bottom of the drawing, in very poor handwriting, is the inscription: 

_“To Hu_

_H A P Y B I R T H D A Y_

_Love Juniper”_ ]

* * *

_GTM/17/1199_

My heart is very full and I do not have words for things like this.

Unbeknownst to me, Ferdinand invited Sylvain and Felix to bring Juniper for a visit for my birthday. They arrived yesterday evening, bringing cake, gifts, and more joyful commotion and noise than I am used to having, which is saying something considering the fact I live with Ferdinand.

Thankfully Juniper has spent most of the morning today with Sylvain and Ferdinand in the stable playing with Cassiopeia. Felix invited me to spar with him and I must admit, it did me quite a lot of good to get my blood and adrenaline pumping. I even won two rounds from him. But considering the fact he is fighting left-handed now, even with my less than exemplary sword skills, the competition still should have been skewed in my favor. Instead of being satisfied in my couple of victories, I should be lamenting the other instances of failure.

I do not miss fighting nor violence, but I do miss a challenge. I believe I shall resume the training routines I did in the past so that next time they visit I can soundly beat that smug smile off of Felix’s face. Now that would be satisfying. Even though he will no doubt struggle immensely to regain his former mastery of the blade, he is still a more formidable opponent than most.

I have retreated to my study now on the excuse of work so that I can have a few minutes of silence. It is pleasant to have Juniper around, but exhausting too. She has grown into a much different child than the one I knew in captivity. She is very energetic and no longer seems overwhelmed by the world as long as she is not alone.

Sylvain says that she was ill for quite some time during the crest-removal procedure but that she has finally recovered her strength. She looks more like a child now and less like a ghost. 

I am happy for her. 

I am happy in general. 

Such a trivial word feels inadequate to portray the complexity of the feeling. But for the moment it is the only word I have. I am not much acquainted with the feeling itself and lack the vocabulary to express it. Perhaps if it proves to be more than a passing mood, I will learn. I would like to be able to tell Ferdinand this. I think he can see it but nonetheless he is the kind of person who is reassured by thoughts being spoken aloud. He thrives on the explicit, not the implicit. I need to tell him how happy I am; I just am not sure how to do so, for to be so happy, without any of the volatility or sorrow or pain being erased, is a tricky thing to understand. I cannot even claim to understand it fully myself.

I do not think I have gotten remarkably better. The same thoughts and cursed memories come to me in the night that haunted me months ago. I still have to take the valerian potion regularly to stave off the psychosis and panic. The majority of my days I still struggle to feel human. The fact that such conditions do not necessarily preclude happiness being experienced seems so strange.

Perhaps the two are a false dichotomy. Yes, I shall explain it to him that way. I am experiencing happiness simultaneously with turmoil. The two do not cancel out each other. 

In my mind, that is progress. Hopefully he will see it that way too.

* * *

_GTM/19/1199_

Sylvain and I got quite drunk last night on the good Almyran wine he brought and we talked a little more candidly than would normally have been my preference. I told him of my research with the valerian and the potion I have concocted. To my surprise, he was thrilled by the invention, not judgmental of my reason for needing to create it.

He told me that Felix also suffers from manic moods from time to time and sleeplessness and when I offered to work on a milder form of the potion to aid in restfulness, he was very grateful. 

I believe the basic formula of the potion could have many uses for many conditions ranging from insomnia to psychosis. And although I cannot pretend that my main motivation to create it was more than just to alleviate my own distress, it still brings me comfort to think that it can be of use to people and that in the future others will not have to experience the untreated depths of this condition as I have.

I do not need such pointless validation. Nevertheless, it gave me some satisfaction to feel useful. I am glad I told him of it, even though it was unwise to disclose the information on my personal psychological condition.

But I must stop writing for now. There is a pounding hangover in my skull that will only be aggravated by staring at this page any longer. I will go try to sneak into the kitchen unobserved and find some food and water to cure it. Let us hope that I can avoid Ferdinand. His exuberance will surely shatter me in this condition.

* * *

_HM/2/1199_

The first strawberries are ripening in the garden and Ferdinand is so very proud of them. I swear to the saints, if I have to endure another one of those egregious strawberry pies he makes…

How insufferable he will be when the apple orchards are ready for harvesting! For all his talk of nobility, that man is happiest with his hands in the dirt and his white riding boots stained hopelessly in mud. 

I have never spent so much time outdoors in my life. Ferdinand has already developed a handsome tan. I, however, fear I shall burst into flames if I am forced to spend another hour in the sun. I keep retreating to my office to work and he keeps dragging me, forcefully at times, outside.

* * *

_HM/23/1199_

I have come out of the fortnight-long regression that occurred in the middle of this month and I believe it has led to some valuable insights on how I can prevent such a depressive episode from escalating again in the future.

Each time, once the anger at lost progress fades, I find that I have learned something new. More information is always valuable; I will focus on that, at least. And I will make up my mental and emotional absence as of late with doubling down on my efforts to be of help to Ferdinand. 

For that purpose, I must now roll up sleeves, put on some walking boots, and go take the hunting hounds for a jaunt. I promised I would take them for their morning runs from now on so that Ferdinand can have an extra hour of sleep. It will be good for my health, although perhaps not for my nerves. Will a silence spell perhaps work to get them to cease their barking and baying? I know it is just their joyful dispositions, but such commotion is trying nonetheless. 

* * *

_HM/24/1199_

The silence spell does not work any better than it works on Ferdinand. So I shall have to put up with the exuberance of the hounds in the same way that I do his: accept it as an unavoidable fact of life and learn to love them anyways.

* * *

_GM/10/1199_

Ferdinand has returned from the Fraldarius wedding with quite a surprise: Juniper. Apparently I am to look out for her while he goes with Sylvain and Felix to see to their business with Claude. I was daunted by the task at first, but since she came accompanied by a tutor, a governess and a bodyguard, there is not much required of me. Despite how brave and energetic she is now, that underlying fear is still visible in the way that she panics when being left alone. With both Sylvain and Felix off on a mission, I suppose they have left her with me simply so that I can help assuage that panic.

It is strange and chaotic to have a child around this stuffy old house, but she brings me joy. And the hounds are happy to have her around too. They always whine when Ferdinand is away. Apparently I am not an adequate substitute for their beloved master. They must still resent me for the silence spell.

I intend to have a word with Juniper’s tutor, though. The way he is teaching her mathematics makes no sense at all. No wonder she does not take much interest in schooling. 

* * *

_GM/29/1199_

They have returned and it is done. I dare not risk writing any specifics, but it bears saying that I feel relieved beyond words, not only that Ferdinand has returned safely home to me, but that he and the others have also managed to stop that one last threat I knew I would not be able to address on my own.

I am glad for Juniper’s sake that Felix and Sylvain arrived without anymore missing limbs. I think it will be quite some time before Juniper learns to trust that they will survive these dangerous missions. She has seen the people she cares about come too close to death’s door too many times already. 

* * *

_BSM/1/1199_

The house felt so quiet without Juniper around, but that was only until Ferdinand recovered from the exhaustion of the journey. Then he returned to his normal hyperactive self and became a greater nuisance than Juniper ever managed to be.

That man… He is too much for me sometimes. And yet every morning when I wake up, I am still so unfathomably glad to see him. I missed him more than I could say, even though he was only away for a few weeks.

I will convince him to finish up work early today so that we can go for a long walk with the hounds. He will enjoy that.

* * *

_BSM/25/1199_

I find less and less to write about these days. It seems that the need to organize my thoughts on paper comes mostly from a tumultuous state of mind. In days of peace, I am too busy to even remember to open this book. I believe I shall take a break from this task. I shall resume it if needed, but at the moment, I do not believe I do.

There is too much work to be done and when I am not doing it, I am spending more time with Ferdinand and less time shutting myself away.

I still do not believe I have ‘recovered’ and, in all truth, I know not how to define what the achievement of that goal would look like. Perhaps it will always be a thing out of reach and my success will be measured simply in how consistently I pursue it. I think there is still every chance I could regress into the state I was in six months ago. Indeed some days I still do; it is just that the intervals between such instances are far longer now than what they used to be.

No, I have not recovered from problems that, to some extent, are of a permanent and incurable nature. But I have kept my promise to Ferdinand. I have sought my own happiness, foreign as that concept still feels to this day.

Now my principal goal is to seek his.


End file.
